The Future Child, Today
by lovova
Summary: AU. There were two possibilities, when Wilbur met Lewis. One is, this boy could have really been from the future, there to protect Lewis. Or, this boy could have been crazy, alone, and in need of protection. The movie showed one side. This is the other.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: **I watched MTR again a few weeks ago, and the movie so impressed me that I got the writers bug that very night and worked in a cold, passionate sweat to create the chapter you see before you. Now, though cold, sweaty writing makes a good word choice for author notes, the actual experience often leaves said author with a barely coherent piece of work in the morning, full of grammar problems, missed capitalization, bad spelling and, worst of all, essential words missing altogether.

Thus, I'd like to thank loudly and profusely, Mykerinos, my Beta who quite literally allowed me to throw my story at her last minute and turned my grammatical mess into something lyrical, sophisticated, and, thank goodness, utterly coherent. Thank you, Mykerinos!

Now, dear reader, please go ahead and read, and I implore you to _please_ leave a review. Story hits are nice, but they are to reviews what bacterial waste is to cheese; completely the same thing, but the later is still so much more pleasant. Thank you!

WARNING: Anyone who has ever read my stories or read my profile knows I'm a shounen ai lover, and there will be very, very small traces to such relations in this fic. HOWEVER, because of their age you can be rest assured that nothing concrete will be happening in this fic. Their just too young. Thank you for your attention.

0

As an orphan Lewis had no last name to speak of, so when the science fair form had requested it, he just put down Cornelius. It was a word that Lewis had read in a book once, and had always liked the sound of. Lewis Cornelius, or maybe Cornelius Lewis, sounded like a name of intrigue, of status, a name worth being proud of. It wasn't that Lewis disliked his own name; Lewis was a fine name by any standards. However, the young scientist had always liked the way Cornelius just kind of rolled off the tongue, the way it sounded both tough and intelligent. Lewis had pretty much decided that when he turned eighteen, the first thing he would do was change his first name to Cornelius, and make his last name Lewis.

Unless, of course, his mother wanted him to carry on _her_ last name.

Lewis looked down at his machine with almost a paternal affection as the science fair hustled and bustled around him. He lovingly polished the already shining screen, quickly double-checked that all springs and tubes were properly aligned before standing back to look at it, feeling a swell of pride. The Memory Scanner, so far his finest intellectual achievement…well, if it worked, anyway. Lewis wished with a pang of regret and anxiety that he had made time to test it this morning. He could imagine perfectly in his head making a big show of presenting it to the judges only to have it exploding, like so many other of his 'achievements'. That probably wouldn't earn him a ribbon.

But as Lewis re-worked and re-tested the math every ten minutes in his head, the conclusion always came out the same: This machine will work.

"And this is Lizzy and her, um, fire ants." Lewis looked over to Lizzie's booth, where the three judges were looking over her project with some alarm. He wanted to tell them not to worry, but that would have been admitting that he had helped Lizzy make an extra tight seal around the frame, so that none of her 'pets' could escape. The only way those ants were getting out was if something broke the glass itself. Not even just hitting the floor work, something would literally have to fly out with considerable force and collide directly against the glass, and what were the chances of that happening?

Suddenly Lewis felt the floor collapse from under his feet, or maybe it was just his feet collapsing from under him. Either way, he suddenly found himself being yanked down underneath the table of a neighbor project, a hand over his mouth as a shout of surprise tried to escape. What the hell?!

Blue eyes suddenly met black, and Lewis found himself face to face and a little too close to an older black-haired boy, who was looking around suspiciously. Lewis shook the hand away and tried to back out from under the table, but the boy grabbed tightly onto his wrist and looked at him intensely.

"Have you been approached by a man in a bowler hat?" He asked, though it sounded more like an accusation.

"A what?" Lewis sputtered out. As the kid looked around more, for what Lewis couldn't tell, he took a second to inspect him. At a glance Lewis had assumed he was another student, but with closer inspection it was obvious he was older, middle school age maybe, and had the watchful appearance of someone who got into trouble a lot. His hair was jet-black and looped like a fin, and his clothes were…somewhat strange. Not unusual-looking, exactly, but as if they were made differently than normal clothes. He was a little taller than Lewis, but seemed to have no trouble moving around in a place Lewis felt was getting increasingly cramped.

"Man. Bowler Hat. Approached you?" the kid repeated, as if chopping down the sentences would make it easier to understand.

"No, why?" Lewis asked. The kid sighed, shaking his head in disapproval before reaching down into his pocket, "I didn't want to do this, but you've forced me to pull rank. My name is Wilbur Robinson, and I'm from the Time Continuation Task Force," Lewis watched as a whir that might have been a badge went in and out of the kid's pocket, "I've been sent to this time to apprehend a criminal, for a robbery, and we believe he came to this time stream and is after _you_."

Lewis raised an eyebrow, "Me? Why me?"

The boy, Wilbur, tapped his chin thoughtfully, "The boys back at HQ haven't figured that out yet, and by HQ, I mean-"

"I know what HQ means." Lewis interrupted, rolling his eyes. Who didn't know what HQ meant?

"You're a smart kid," Wilbur complimented, before his gaze darkened, "That might keep you alive, for now. So, bowler hat, has he approached you?"

Lewis shook his head, wondering slightly how close the judges were. Would they pass him by if he wasn't at his booth? "No. What did he steal?"

"A time machine."

Lewis looked Wilbur right in the eye, waiting for him to laugh. The kid's serious expression never faltered, not even for a second as Lewis smiled, letting him know he was in on the joke. The guy wasn't kidding. Either the other kid had a fantastic poker face, or he was completely off his rocker.

The moment lingered on awkwardly as the former became more apparent. "Okay, bye-bye." Lewis said awkwardly as he tried to slip out from under the table. Wilbur grabbed his wrist, pulling him back. Lewis wondered if maybe he should start screaming for help.

"Hey, look, I'm not kidding. And you're in real danger!" Wilbur cried, his serious tone slipping to reveal a more childish one before he corrected himself, "I'm from the future, and I'm here to protect you!"

Lewis suddenly saw three familiar pairs of shoes start walking towards his booth, and he knew he had to get out of there right then. He turned to look at the boy, his mind racing, "Okay, you're here to protect me? Fine, then go protect me, but I have to go present my invention now."

Wilbur seemed appeased at this, "Right, you go work on your science gismo, and I'll go and search the parameter for the perp. And by 'perp' I mean-"

"I know what it means." Lewis growled as he made his way out from under the table.

"Okay mister smarty pants." Wilbur gave him a wink before speeding off, leaving Lewis there feeling confused and a little annoyed. The guy was probably just playing some sort of stupid game, Lewis realized. He was a little too old for pretend games, and it was rude to drag in other people who had more important stuff to do, but Lewis figured this was probably the best explanation to what had just happened. Cleaning himself off, he hurried to his booth where the judges were waiting.

"Ah," Lewis's science teacher, one of the three judges, Mr. Willerstein, looked at his chart before announcing to the other two, "and here we have Lewis's invention…Lewis!" a look of learned horror had just crossed the teachers face before he rushed over to his young pupil, leaning in closer to whisper, "Um, Lewis, your sure that this project isn't going to _boom_?"

Lewis smiled at the teacher's worry. He had always liked Mr. Willerstein, because he was the only science teacher Lewis had ever had that continually let Lewis present his inventions in front of the class, even though the older man had gotten many a singed eyebrow because of that.

"Don't worry Mr. Willerstein, it's going to work this time," Lewis promised, taking the sheet off of his invention, revealing its glimmering sheen.

Mr. Willerstein looked uncertain for a moment before smiling, "Okay Lewis, I trust ya." He turned back to the other two judges, Coach Thud and a woman in a lab coat Lewis had never seen before, as well as a few kids who had come over to watch, "well, if you'll all move in, Lewis will present his invention now!"

Lewis watched as everyone moved in and felt his face split into a grin. This was his moment to shine, his moment to stand out, and he wasn't going to waste it!

…As well as his moment to finally discover…who he was.

"Have you ever wondered where our forgotten memories go to?" He asked his curious audience, most of the room's population having come over to watch. He wasn't one to be shy in front of a crowd though, and Lewis felt no fear as he walked over to his invention, "Well, I had a theory that those memories were stored away in the brain somewhere, and I have invented a machine that can retrieve them, and display them on this monitor." He felt a warm feeling in his stomach as the crowd oohed, staring at the machine with a great deal more interest.

"Ooh, how exciting! Show us how it works, Lewis!" the excitable science woman coaxed. Lewis smiled at her. He kind of liked this woman, though she seemed a little over-energetic. Might be all those coffee patches he spotted on her arm.

"You just put this on your head," he placed a device that resembled a helmet that was connected to the machine onto his head and pulled on the headphone, showing a little blue light going into his ear, "and these low density lasers scan your brain and find the memory you're looking for. To find the memory, you have to put in a date on the monitor. I'm going to put in the date 9/8/95."

"Why that particular time?" Coach interrupted, noticing the other judges baffled faces, "Didn't think I was paying attention, did ya?"

Lewis frowned, unsure how much he wanted to answer that question. Just then he noticed in the back the crazy Wilbur kid watching the presentation, and realized that it was just too personal to confess to a room full of strangers. "Let's just say that was a very important day in my life."

"Fair enough." Coach conceded, "Now play ball!"

Lewis figured this meant that he should start, so he turned to the machine and flipped the switch, putting in the numbers as the machine began to hum.

For a moment, Lewis hesitated. This was the moment he had been waiting for, had worked hard for. Nothing short of a catastrophe could stop him from using this machine…but still, he hesitated. He thought of Mildred, and her advice, her pleading with him to let go of the past and embrace the future. He thought of his possible future family, a couple just waiting for him, a couple that would love him, maybe waiting just around the corner. He thought about his mother, and wondered what she was thinking right then, as he prepared to take the final step to discovering her, and wondered if she would be horrified, and he hesitated.

Then he remembered one hundred and eighty-four dashes furiously written onto the side of a box, and pushed the red button.

Everyone watched intrigued as the machine whirred, electricity humming. "We just need to wait for the thermosecters to heat up!" Lewis shouted above the noise. The machine began to shake a little, which it wasn't supposed to do, and for a second Lewis was afraid that the cooler wasn't reacting right and that his machine was overheating; he sighed in relief as it soon settled down, and machine whirred smoothly.

Lewis watched as intently as everyone else as a picture started to form on the screen. There was an odd buzz in his head, but Lewis ignored it as the picture of a dark sky took his breath away. He was remembering…

It had been a stormy night the day his mother had left him at the orphanage.

She had been wearing a long black cloak, and she had held him close in her arms to protect him from the rain. He had only been a baby, and had felt tired and cranky, and had just wanted to go to sleep, but it had been so cold, with only a thin blue blanket to protect him, and his mother's cold shaking hands.

She had been beautiful, he remembered that.

He now knew that he got his blond hair from his mother, though hers didn't seem to naturally spike the way his did, but seemed to fall over her face like light clouds. Her eyes were difficult to discern in the black and deep night, but they looked darker, perhaps a brown or black color. She had been tall and slender, and when he looked up into her face, it was like she was the only thing in the whole world.

She had looked at him with love before she had left, and he had cried for her, but she never came back.

Not for the next twelve years, did she ever come back.

"Lewis, this is incredible!" the excited voice of his teacher brought him back to the 21st century, Lewis leaning over to turn off the machine just as Mildred, the owner of the orphanage, was opening the door. Lewis felt his heart pounding. He had a face. If he dug a bit deeper into his past memories, he would probably get a name, but even if not, he had a face.

And out there, somewhere, he had a mother.

As he walked away from his experiment, awed kids surrounding it to have a better look, the three judges came up to him.

"Well, I think we all know who today's winner is going to be. Congratulations, Lewis." Mr. Willerstein smiled, giving Lewis a friendly pat on the shoulder. Shoving the thin teacher aside, the lab coat woman jumped in front of Lewis and with a squeal gave him an unexpected hug.

"Oh that was incredible!" She praised, standing upright as Lewis got his bearing again, "Well, Lewis, along with the grand prize trophy, you'll also be working as an intern in my station at . It'll be a great experience for an aspiring inventor such as yourself, and the department's going to love to have ya!"

Lewis smiled politely. He really was glad about all this, winning the science fair was great, and he had a lot of respect for the Invent Corporation, but it all seemed like small fish in comparison to the joy of having seen his mother's face. He couldn't get her eyes out of his head, those loving, regretful eyes…

"Lewis!" Lewis sighed, though it came out as more of a growlish grunt as a now familiar voice called out to him.

As Wilbur ran up to beside Lewis, taking a moment to catch his breath, the three judges gave him perplexed looks, well, two of the judges anyway. Coach had seen one of his heavier students stop running the lap he had ordered and had gone to 'encourage' him.

"Hello." Mr. Willerstein greeted before turning to Lewis, "Who's your friend, Lewis? Is he a student here?"

Lewis rolled his eyes, "No; and he's not my friend. He's-"

Wilbur stared at him wide-eyed, grabbing onto his shoulder urgently, startling the two judges to take a step back, "Lewis! No, you can't!"

Lewis shook him off, glaring at him before saying, "He's just a kid I met today… I invited him to the science fair."

Wilbur gave him a grateful look, probably for not telling about the time cop thing, but Lewis ignored it. He wasn't sure why he had lied about inviting him. The judges had been looking at Wilbur with kind of a suspicious confusion, and Lewis had felt what he supposed was a natural kid instinct of covering for another kid. Not that Wilbur really needed covering; you didn't have to be invited by a student to come to the science fair. There was just something about the boy that seemed…out of place, like he didn't really fit into the scenery. Lewis had felt like he needed to explain him being there…at all.

Mr. Willerstein hesitated before turning to Wilbur, reaching out to shake his hand hello, which Wilbur distractedly accepted. "Well, young man, I hoped you enjoyed the-"

"Yeah yeah, whatever, old man." Wilbur interrupted, turning back to Lewis, who was glaring at him, "Lewis, I need to talk to you, Bowler Hat Guy is here, I saw him!"

"Oh yeah? Where?" Lewis asked, feeling as if he was dealing with a particularly annoying little kid, "I don't see a bowler hat guy anywhere."

Wilbur looked around, biting his lip before muttering, "Well, he_ was_ here. And he was staring right at you!"

The science woman, whose name tag read Lucille Robinson, stepped in, maternal warning bells going off in her head, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but is some man following you, young man? Is that why you're all hyped up?"

Wilbur looked at her as if he had only just remembered they had an audience, "Er…no miss… me and Lewis are just playing a game is all…"

Mr. Willerstein, who was still smarting over that 'old man' comment, frowned at the dark-haired boy with disapproval, "Well, young man, Lewis is very busy right now and he obviously doesn't want to play. Now, if you don't mind, tell me where your parents are, I'd like to have a word with them about your conduct here today."

Wilbur stared up blankly at him. "What?"

Willerstein frowned, "Your parents, young man, where are they?"

Wilbur for some reason glanced at Lewis before sputtering, "Um, my parents? Um…umm….Canada?"

"Canada!" Lewis shouted, quieting down as other students looked over, "what are your parents doing out of the country!?"

"Country?" Wilbur asked, looking confused before shaking it off, "er, yeah. Canada, they're on a business trip."

"So then where are ya staying kid?" Coach Thus asked, popping out of nowhere as everyone except Wilbur jumped, who simply bit his lip.

"Um, ya know, around…at my house." Wilbur smiled, getting on some solid footing as he continued, "yeah, they'll be back tomorrow, so I'm just spending the night alone tonight. They've decided I'm mature enough, cool huh?" he bragged to Lewis, who just rolled his eyes, before continuing to Mr. Willerstein, "I can give you my house number, sir, if you _really_ want to talk to them."

Mr. Willerstein gave Wilbur his best steely-eyed look, the boy simply grinning back up at him, before deciding this was more trouble than it was worth, "Never mind, just remember your manners next time. Lewis, come into my class tomorrow and I'll give you your intern schedule. Congratulations again, but now I have to go close shop." He turned to Lucille, taking her hand in a light handshake, "It was a pleasure meeting you Mrs. Robinson. Will you help me clean up Coach?"

Coach Thud nodded, "Yep, already got some of the students to volunteer to stay after. Clean up will go by in a flash!"

"Er, Coach, you know you're not allowed to threaten the students, right?" Mr. Willerstein asked as the two teachers walked away together. Mrs. Robinson turned to the boys with a smile, giving them both a hug, which Lewis accepted easily this time, though Wilbur went stiff under the embrace.

"Well, I'll see you soon, Lewis, and feel free to bring your parents over anytime, I'd love to meet them! But, oops, I've got to go, I'm going to be late for an appointment if I dilly-dally here all day! Bye, dear!" the two boys waved after her as she trotted away. Lewis smiled, wondering about the 'Mrs' part. The woman was so strange, he could only imagine what her husband was like.

"We better get out of here before the big guy in the shorts volunteers _us_." Wilbur whispered to Lewis, Lewis nodding readily as they began to slip out, hearing the cries of protest from less lucky students as they ran out of the building. Going out into the sun, Wilbur looked startled as he turned to Lewis, "Wait, don't you need to get your invention?"

"Nah, we're supposed to leave our projects here overnight and let students at the school look at them the next day. I won't get it back till tomorrow afternoon." Lewis explained with a shrug, though he wished he could explore deeper into his memories that night.

"But Bowler Hat Guy might try to steal it before then!"

"Ugh," Lewis sped up as Wilbur walked next to him, shaking his head in disgust, "not this hat guy again, what is with you? Why would anyone want to A: Stalk me, or B: Steal my science fair project? I'll take you seriously if you can give me one good reason."

Wilbur stammered and threw his hands in the air as if it were obvious, before finally frowning and shrugging his shoulders. He couldn't think of a reason. Somebody might want to sell it, it was a pretty unique and sophisticated invention, but Wilbur didn't think Bowler Hat Guy would go this far for some extra cash. No, Bowler Hat Guy's plan was more malevolent, more viscous, more Hollywood…he just couldn't figure out what it could be yet.

The two walked in silence for a bit, Lewis ready to go home and tell Mildred all about his day, Wilbur just following Lewis. Eventually Lewis realized this and stopped to glare at Wilbur.

"Why are you following me?"

Wilbur huffed before taking out his badge again. "I told you, I'm a time cop, and I'm here to protect you."

Lewis grabbed the 'badge' before Wilbur could work his disappearing act again, taking a closer look at it before growling, "This isn't a badge, this is a coupon for a tanning salon! You fake." Wilbur grabbed the coupon back, looking guilty as he put it back into his pocket before running after Lewis, who had started walking again.

"Okay, I'll admit it, I'm not a cop." he grinned sheepishly as Lewis gave him a 'no duh' look. "But there really is a Bowler Hat Guy, and he really was watching you at the fair! He's bad news! He stole the time machine and-"

Lewis stopped and whirled to face Wilbur, having had enough. "Listen, he did not steal a time machine, because you are **not** from the **future**! More likely you're from the mental house!"

Wilbur's face seemed to twist, going from merely annoyed to alarmed. That last part seemed to sting, "Hey, hey, I am _not_ crazy!"

"Oh yeah, Mr. TimeCop? Can you prove any of this?" Lewis dared, raising an eyebrow at him as Wilbur looked around uncertainly before deflating, "yeah, that's what I thought. Look, go home okay?"

Lewis walked away in a huff, noticing that this time Wilbur's footsteps weren't right behind him. After being a good distance away, he spared a look back. Wilbur was just standing there, one hand holding onto his other arm. He looked a little lost, and kind of young. In the distance Lewis could hear a storm beginning to brew. For a moment Lewis considered going back, maybe just to make sure the weirdo got out of the rain, before shaking his head and continuing heading home. The crazy jerk would be fine, Lewis told himself, he said he lived around here, and why would he lie about that?

_He's lied about everything else,_ his conscious told him, but Lewis ignored it. He just kept repeating to himself that it wasn't his problem, and that the crazy kid would be fine.

The kid would be fine.

Meanwhile…

_He looked around, stepping outside of the stage curtains with slow, fluid movements. He was a man that could take his time, and knew it, and so he made no hurry as he walked down the aisles, stopping to look at every other project before coming to the one he wanted._

_He stared at it, and it gleamed back at him. He touched the mirror-like surface and marveled at how simple such a truly complex machine looked. It was a marvel of science, a history-altering discovery by…by a little boy, whom had presented it to foolish people who had had no idea how important the thing they had judged actually was. The boy had unlocked a Pandora Box to the brain, a final frontier as it were in the secrets of the human memory! It was phenomenal!_

_And none of this was lost on the man as, very casually, he pressed his hand against the mirror, and pushed the whole thing over._

_It shattered, bits and pieces of it spreading across the floor. The man looked at the poor, broken thing dispassionately. Very slightly, he lifted his hand up and absent-mindedly petted his hat. It was not damaged beyond repair, the boy would find it easy to restore. The point wasn't to destroy the machine._

_He turned from the machine, placing his hand behind his back lazily as he walked towards the exit of the gymnasium where all the other teachers and students had already left. Once again he raised his hand to for a moment pet his hat, before chuckling slightly._

"_Message sent, my dear."_

_-tbc-_


	2. Chapter 2

Author Note:

_Forgot to tell you something in the last chapter. I update every Sunday, so expect chapter three next Sunday! Enjoy the story!_

Chapter Two

It had probably been a dark and stormy night when Miss. Mildred Miller was born.

This is not to say that in any way, shape or form that Miss. Miller was dangerous or unpleasant to be around. On the contrary, the woman was a saint. Mildred was an intelligent and resourceful woman, who had gotten her degree in business and childrearing, and while her fellow classmates had been discussing high profit day cares and private schools, Mildred had gone after with a single minded determination to open up a chain of orphanages throughout five different states, one orphanage she ran herself. People all around these states, especially the posh and the authorities who were glad to see ruffians off their streets, praised her often for her good tasks.

However, if one looks closely at these posh and pampered people's faces as they drink wine in her honor, you'll notice a grin so tight it was almost panicky. And if Mildred was in the same room, receiving said toast, you can't help but notice a fine little smirk behind her crystal wine glass, and predatory eyes on her 'hosts'.

It took a lot of money to run successful orphanages, and when Mildred came to parties and posh gatherings, there was a clear dread in the air under the certain knowledge that whichever ritzy person she set her sights on would be a few thousand dollars poorer and a receipt thanking them for the charitable donation. Mildred had gotten A's in her business and debate classes.

Her charges of course didn't know this side of Mildred. All they knew of the woman was that she really liked mint chocolate, preferred baths to showers, and was the greatest thing that had ever happened to most of them. Unlike most students with their parents, kids rushed to be the first ones to tell Mildred about their day, and so it was late before Lewis finally got the chance to tell her how the science fair went.

"…And then, Mr. Willerstien said right then and there that I had won the competition! It was amazing Mildred!" Lewis beamed, on top of his chair after finishing reenacting the entire day. Minus Wilbur. The thought of the boy still made Lewis feel a little uneasy, with uncomfortable little feelings of guilt he was pretty sure he didn't deserve. Probably.

"Oh Lewis, that's wonderful!" Mildred praised, sweeping him up into a bear hug as Goob sleepily walked into the kitchen.

What's so wonderful?" Goob asked as he grabbed the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that Mildred had made for the kids of the house. Most of the orphans preferred to eat in the T.V. room or their rooms, but Goob occasionally liked to keep Mildred company in the kitchen for dinner. In a house full of kids, it was difficult to get some one on one time with the guardian.

"Oh, hey Michael," Mildred greeted as she put the grinning Lewis down, straightening her twisted apron, "Lewis won the science fair, isn't that exciting?"

Goob shrugged in his usual goobish fashion, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he tried to chew through the peanut butter. "Yeah, sure," he said, though with the peanut butter in his mouth it sounded more like, "y'suw."

Lewis didn't mind the lack of enthusiasm. His young roommate may not have always been jumping for joy that Lewis was a scientist, but his friend did support him, in his own small ways. Though he'd loudly complain of being kept up all night by noise and lights, he never actually asked for a room change, and though it usually sounded sarcastic, he did give occasional words of encouragement. He'd even help Lewis build his inventions if he was in the mood for talking, and the young boy was always in the mood for talking.

"How'd the baseball game go Goob?" Lewis asked as he grabbed his own sandwich, a baloney. He had lost some of his appetite for peanut butter and jelly after the 'Allergy Incident' with a possible couple wanting to adopt him. The way that man's face had just swelled up like a balloon….

Goob sighed in annoyance, "It never happened. The stupid Ref canceled the game because of the storm that's coming, but it was sunny all day. What a waste, I was totally in the zone today." As he said this Goob's eyes began to droop as his head began to nod before he jolted back awake, sighing.

Mildred looked out the window at the darkening sky, "Well, late or not, that storms definitely hitting us. It's going to be raining cats and dogs tonight! I'd sure hate to be out there when it does."

A mental image of Wilbur flashed in Lewis's mind before he was thankfully distracted by Goob's yawning. Glad for the distraction, Lewis grinned apologetically, "Sorry Goob, I know I've taken a couple of late nights, but I'll be taking a break from inventions for a bit. I've got to focus on that internship."

Goob shrugged as if none of it had really bothered him, though he was immensely relieved. Taking a sip from his cup of milk he complained, "Fine. I just don't understand why _you _never get tired. I once saw you only get an hour of sleep and you woke up like you were ready to run a race. It's not fair."

Lewis sipped through his own straw as he played this sentence around his head. It was true, the blond had never really needed a lot of sleep, and he just seemed to always have some extra energy stored away somewhere. That was pretty odd…maybe it was in his muscles, or the way his bloodstream flowed. Perhaps he should conduct a few insomnia experiments and…

Lewis remembered the promise he had only just made to Goob and sighed. His experiment would have to wait; his friend deserved a break for awhile…though he really, _really_ wanted to look into the secrets of sleep now!

"Mildred, may I be excused?" Lewis asked as he finished off his sandwich, jumping from his seat when his caretaker smiled and nodded. Quickly he headed to his and Goob's room to grab his notebook, than headed up to the roof. The roof did have a nightlight, so he'd be able to see for awhile, but Mildred had a strict nine o' clock curfew when it came to the roof, and he knew she'd be up to check within the next hour, most likely at nine thirty. He had only that long to come up with the basic ideas of what he would do with sleep.

Thoughts and ideas flew around in his head as he worked through possible studies and their everyday usefulness, and as he got out onto the roof, breath momentarily taken away by the chill, he huddled up next to his wooden box and, getting as much light from the light bulb as he could, began to write.

He decided that before he could figure out what would be most usefully done to improve the sleeping condition, he had to discover what made sleep tick. Why could he last just fine with only a minimum amount of it, but Goob was practically disabled with the same amount of sleep? Could he invent a machine that would help Goob survive without sleep, or a machine that could help Goob sleep with the racket Lewis made? Was it the noise that kept Goob up, or the light, or just the psychology of knowing someone in the room was awake, a survival instinct? Would Goob be willing to go through testing?

Thoughts and theories swam though Lewis's head, his pencil working furiously. Over a half hour went by without Lewis's notice, people in the house having gone to bed by now at the late hour of nine, and Lewis was just considering calling it quits for the night when a hand suddenly came out of the darkness, and pointed to a word on his page, "Did you know that you always confuse 'than' and 'then'?"

"Augh!" Lewis cried out as he reeled back, dropping his notebook as his heart pounded. It calmed down when, out of the darkness, walked Wilbur, who carefully picked up the notebook, eyeing it with interest before handing it back to Lewis with a grin. Lewis angrily snatched it back, getting up onto his feet. "What did you think you were doing!? You scared the daylights out of me! What are you doing here?!"

Wilbur rolled his eyes, "I'm here to protect you, remember? Bowler hat guy, stalking you, ring any bells?"

Lewis backed away from the boy, frightened. This kid was stalking him, and he had somehow managed to sneak up onto the roof at night, and the older kids' body was directly between him and the door inside. "I don't want to be protected. I can handle myself, so…so just go back to wherever it is you come from!"

Wilbur laughed, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, "Well, that'll be a bit tough, considering I'm thirty years from home. I mean, yeah, sure, if I wait around long enough I'll eventually get there, but what fun would that be?"

Lewis hesitated at this, struggling between annoyance, fear and concern. This would all be so much easier if the guy was foaming at the mouth or something. It was weird hearing someone say stuff like that and appear perfectly normal. "What? I thought you said you lived around here?"

Wilbur laughed, "Geez, and here I thought you were a super genius. I just told the adults that to keep my cover. I'm from the _future, _Lewis, why would I have a house thirty years in the past? Honestly, get with the program." Wilbur encouraged as he looked around, clapping his hands to keep them from freezing in the cold, which was getting heavier.

Lewis struggled with this, raising his hands to his temples before letting them fall away in exasperation. What was he supposed to do about this? What _could_ he do about this? Some crazy, apparently homeless kid was stalking him because he thought some guy in a bowler hat was after him. Who even wore bowler hats anymore? Lewis was twelve years old, and he didn't know how to handle this, super genius or not!

"Maybe I should go get Mildred." Lewis whispered to himself, not meaning to be overheard but was overheard nonetheless by a suddenly alert Wilbur.

"Whose Mildred?" Wilbur asked warily, becoming more and more nervous as Lewis turned away and began to walk towards the door. "Lewis?"

"Mildred is the owner of the orphanage Wilbur, and she's going to help us sort this whole thing out, so just wait h-" Lewis was cut off as the surprisingly quick Wilbur was suddenly in front of his, shoving the door shut.

"Wait, wait, wait, you can't tell anybody about this, about me!" Wilbur shouted, firmly blocking off the door as Lewis tried to get around him, "Your times' police will capture me, and when they hear I'm from the future, they'll lock me away, and when this eventually gets to my dad in a couple of decades I'll be in sooo much trouble! I'm not even supposed to look at the time machines, let alone get one of them stolen and the other one lost!"

Lewis blinked. It was the first time in his life that he had ever had to remind himself to do that. "You lost your time machine? How do you lose a time machine!?"

Wilbur grinned sheepishly, "Well, I just hope it's lost anyway. It's invisible, so when I couldn't find it this afternoon I was hoping I had misplaced it, but there's a chance that one got stolen too." Wilbur frowned miserably at the idea as Lewis tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"And if that's how the second one got stolen, how did the first one get stolen?" Lewis asked, feeling ridiculous for even having this conversation, let alone being interested in the answer.

Wilbur grinned. There was something off about it as he pointed his index finger at Lewis, "That…is an excellent question. Hey, can I spend the night?"

Lewis blinked, thrown by the sudden change in conversation, "Huh?"

Wilbur threw a hand good naturedly across Lewis's shoulders, pointing up into the sky, "Ya know, that thing that happens when the sun goes away and the moon comes out? Night? Can I stay during it? I won't be any trouble."

Lewis scoffed unbelievingly at this, shrugging Wilbur's hands off, "No, I'm not letting you into my house. I don't want you anywhere near me!" Lewis turned away from the boy, struggling with his nerves. It had suddenly occurred to him that it might not be a great idea to make an insane person mad. There was no telling how they'll react, though, so far Wilbur just seemed annoyed.

Wilbur gapped before throwing up his hands, "Aw, come on! You're not going to leave me to sleep out in the streets tonight are you? This is the 21st century; anything could happen to me out there!"

"I don't care." Lewis lied, crossing his arms in a huff, while inside he cringed. It wasn't like the city had a high crime rate or anything…but things did happen, especially to kids out by themselves all night (at least, that's what Mildred said the last time she caught a kid sneaking out at night).

Then an idea prickled in the boy geniuses mind.

He bit his lip. It was a mean plan.

Wilbur huffed, scowling as he rolled his eyes at the sky, wondering why on earth the Gods had burdened him with such a difficult charge. "Geez, you are such a jerk! So I guess you'd be thrilled if they found my body in the morning, frozen to death, my stomach empty, stabbed in the back by some desperate hobo, stuffed in a gar-!"

"Okay, okay!" Lewis shushed, eyeing the windows nervously to see if anyone had heard that fuss. "Look just…the storm still hasn't broken, and there's still a chance it'll rain tonight, so I'll let you in just for a little while, okay? But be quiet, everyone headed to bed twenty minutes ago, and Mildred wouldn't like me bringing a friend in this late unannounced."

'_Not that she's not going to find out by the end of the night anyway._' Lewis thought to himself with a touch of nerves. He would just have to deal with that when it came. At least this would all be over really, really soon. Plus, it would work out for everybody! Wilbur would have a place to spend the night and would probably be returned to his parents and, most importantly, wouldn't be Lewis's problem anymore!

Lewis's room, shared with the young athlete Goob, was almost as odd as its occupants. Not that there was anything unusual in it, many childhood rooms were filled with sports figures and balls and posters (though admittedly a less number of children rooms could be found with binders full of Quantum Physics notes, based on Einstein's original transcripts.). The strangeness off this room was its perpetual state of being somewhat clean, or if you were a pessimist, somewhat messy. While underwear could be folded and organized by color in the drawers, socks could also be found hidden somewhere under the desk, right next to a piece of bread that had turned so many colors that had Lewis not been afraid of infection he would have loved to check to see if any sort of sentient life had yet grown on it. This was because, while Lewis had a tendency to be absent minded and rather messy, Goob could be tidy and organized to the point of mild OCD.

The boy was a freak for neat and was oddly efficient in keeping himself that way, often coming home from a rough and rowdy game of baseball without so much as a speck of dirt or a grass stain on his uniform. This didn't mean he avoided the dirt; he was enthralled into just as much mayhem as all of his other teammates. He just tended to get out of it looking like an after commercial for soup detergent.

Lewis, on the other hand…well, let's just say that the idea of Lewis one day growing up and getting a place on his own kept Mildred up at night. This was often by the mental image of coming to visit one day and finding out he had suffocated under a trash avalanche, things that had been left under the desk too long crawling around the terrain.

This was in fact what Mildred was dreaming about as soon as Lewis had let Wilbur into his room.

"Shh," Lewis whispered, wordlessly pointing to Goob, who had thankfully managed to fall asleep before Lewis had got there. Wilbur nodded mutely, grinning with a sort of giggling excitement as he looked around the room. Lewis motioned for Wilbur to follow and together they snuck into his and Goob's closet, quietly shutting the door behind him.

They had to squeeze because it was a small closet, but they were envied by many of the other female orphans because it was one of the few walk in closets of the house. Mildred had only let him and Goob have it because the guardian would rather have most of Lewis's more 'inventive' projects locked behind two sets of doors, just in case.

"Okay, you're going to stay in here, alright?" Lewis ordered, trying to shuffle past Wilbur, "Don't make any noise. I'll see you in the morning."

Wilbur frowned, looking around at the small space. It wouldn't be uncomfortable, per se, but…. "Can't I at least have a blanket and pillow or something?"

Lewis looked guilty for a moment before shuffling, coming back with a pillow and blanket. It was his pillow and blanket, and his bed would be cold and uncomfortable without it, but Wilbur wasn't going to have it for long.

For some reason, Lewis was feeling more and more uncomfortable with that. Wilbur was a pain, but at the same time he really wished he didn't have to be around when Wilbur would realize what he had done.

"Now, stay. Here." Lewis ordered again, once more heading out the door as quietly as possible. Just as he was grasping the handle, Lewis felt a tap on the shoulder. He looked back to see Wilbur smiling shyly, holding his pillow and blanket. Once again Lewis had the mental image of someone far younger then himself, and had to blink a couple of times and remember that Wilbur was clearly older than him, and about three inches taller. It would do him no good to think of Wilbur as some helpless little kid, because he wasn't. He was a jerk and insane and…

"Hey, I just wanted to say thanks." Wilbur said, grinning shyly again, "Ya know, for letting me stay the night. It's important that I do, but I know you don't think so, so you didn't need to let me in so…thanks."

…and sweet and nice during the absolute worst times.

Lewis nodded mutely and hurried out, letting out a tense breath of air. Why'd he have to go and say that? There had been no call for that! What a jerk, thanking him like that!

Such mutterings and guilty looks over his shoulder continued as Lewis sulked down to the kitchen, walking silently by Mildred's door as he heard Mildred whimper slightly in her sleep, dreaming about whatever the dark woman dreamt about. Knowing it would be noticed, Lewis left the light off as he entered the kitchen, using the light glow of a street lamp outside, beaming in threw the windows, to navigate the familiar path.

Illuminated perfectly by the glow was the phone. It was an old phone, one of the first types of wireless to ever be sold. Lewis had never thought it looked menacing before.

He made a call.

1

Down the street lived a girl, with hair and eyes as black as night, and skin as white as snow. Thankfully, however, her parents when they realized how much their daughter resembled a certain fairytale princess at birth, and had so decided to give her the sensible name Franny. Franny was everything you hoped for in a daughter; kind, courteous, and studious in everything she did. When she decided she was going to do something, an example being karate, she stuck to it like white on rice, and was often the best in her class. She also didn't talk back and didn't say no, and her colorful antics often brought smiles to her parent's faces.

However, her parents would also look to each other with these tight little smiles sometimes, before kindly reminding their ambitious daughter that, no, the frogs couldn't eat at the table, and please keep in mind, dear, what happened the last time the neighbors saw you singing to them for three hours straight.

Franny was currently working on her star pupil, Frankie, who out of all the frogs was the only one who, as far as she could tell, was making an effort to mimic her. His croaks came out in rhythm to the music, and he often seemed to look straight at her when she sang, while the other frogs often tended to let their eyes and legs wander. Franny held the little frog in her hand and was softly singing one line to him, over and over again.

"Jeepers creepers, where'd you get them peepers? Jeepers, creepers, where'd you get them eyes?" She repeated the same line again and again, and below her Frankie dutifully croaked with her, one croak for every word.

If you listened really, really closely, the way Franny was, you could almost mistake one of the croaks for being a very muddled 'Jeepers'.

Franny didn't think of herself as the person closest in the entire world to actually teach an animal to talk, because she didn't know she had. Also, she didn't think of herself as someone teaching an animal to talk. She was teaching an animal to sing, and talking just happened to be one of those vital things involved in most singing. The reason Franny was succeding where so many scientists had failed was her undying stubbornness, which had shown from her third year, especially regarding frogs. When little Franny had been taught to sing by her mother, she had merely assumed that her pet frogs could do the same thing if someone sat down and showed them how, and every day for the past nine years she had still been convinced of this and practiced with them, every morning and every night.

Her parents had long ago just accepted it, on the basis that Franny held most of her practice sessions in her room, and that it didn't interfere with friends or school.

"Jeepers, creepers, where'd you get those peepers? Jeepers, creepers, where's you get them eyes…" Franny took a breath before placing Frankie down into the frog pen, the frog still looking up at her expectantly. Grabbing a little box from her dresser, she opened it up the tiniest bit so a single fly could get out, and Frankie grabbed it out of the air. The other frogs looked on jealously, but they all knew it was Frankies treat, so none of them attempted to steal it.

Franny stood up and stretched, her small body practically lifting itself into the air with the effort. She walked to her window and looked outside. She supposed she could blame it on the events of the day that her eyes drifted over to the orphanage down the street, but honestly they usually did this time of night. Franny had never met anyone before from the orphanage, but often thought of it, with confused feelings of pity, disgust and envy. She knew her parents didn't like living across from an orphanage, whispered that it was dangerous and lowered their property value, and you never knew what kind of kid could just walk down the street, and if Franny hadn't been expressly forbidden to talk to the kids from there, she knew her parents would disapprove.

The envy was at their appealing total freedom, and how there were always so many of them. Franny had two brothers, both whom she loved and used to play with endlessly, but they were both in highschool now and had no time to play with their little sister. Franny, feeling more and more lonely these days, often had to resist walking over to the orphanage, all casual-like, and see if anyone there would like to play. They always looked like they were having so much fun, when she saw them. However, orphans were dangerous, because they usually came from bad home lives, and "the apple doesn't fall far…" She actually wasn't entirely sure what that phrase meant, but she heard her parents whisper it all the time, and knew by their tone it wasn't good.

But Franny had heard that the blond kid, Lewis, the one who had won the science fair, was from the orphanage. She had noticed him at the beginning of the science fair, and her eyes had kept drifting back to him, mostly out of curiosity for his strange fashion sense. She hadn't gotten a chance to talk to him during all the excitement, but he had seemed…nice. And that didn't fit into the carefully placed image of kids from the orphanage that her parents had instilled in her.

She was a sixth grader and she knew he was a seventh grader, and wondered if they would ever see each other again, even though they didn't have any classes together. She wondered why she cared so much, and peered through the dark at the orphanage some more. She peered through her blinds to the dark windows of the large orphanage building. Which room was his?

And then, off in the distance, she heard sirens, and watched two cop cars role into the street, with their red and blue light spinning, the siren turning off as they parked in front of the orphanage.

She watched, wide-eyed, as two of the cops from one of the cars walked out, went up to the building and knocked on the door. The door quickly opened, as if someone had been waiting beside it, and Franny saw a flash of blond under the light as the person let them in.

And then, a moment later, she heard shouting and watched a dark figure jump from out of the second story window and take off running.

Somewhere else, not too far away…

_The man had gone home, and gone into _that _room, and looked under _his_ bed. He thought that the man didn't know about the hole in the mattress, didn't know about the pages carefully tapped back into the binder. The man had known. He had known because she had known._

_She knew everything._

_Sitting carefully on the bed, he opened the book with two fingers, carefully placing it down as, putting his index finger to his tongue every time, he turned a page._

_One a page….two a page….three a page….there._

_A name. An address._

_The boy could not hide._

_Very carefully, the man put the little battered book back, being sure to leave everything just as he found it. The boy would come back, he knew he could not be without the book for long. It would itch at the back of his mind, nagging at him, until he would finally risk sneaking in at the night, to quietly take it away, believing the man knew nothing._

_The man made it his business to know. Life had taught him that knowledge was power._

_And she had taught him that secrets were how you kept power._

_It was not a full moon, that night._

_But it would be soon._

0

R&R!


	3. Chapter 3

Authors Note:

_I'm SO sorry that this is so late! FF would not let me log in for THREE DAYS! Anyway, the next update will still be up sunday, so...enjoy the chapter!_

Chapter Three

Wilbur had been setting up his spot on the closet floor, trying to find the most comfortable spot to place the thin blanket and pillow, when he was distracted by his nails. He kneeled there on the floor, pillow on his lap as he stared blankly at it for a while before realizing what specifically had caught his attention. His nails had been bitten down to the skin, the edges jagged and uneven. One nail, the one that was supposed to one day have a ring on it, looked like it had been bitten down so low that the skin underneath had been pulled and cut, and had probably bled heavily.

When had he started biting his fingernails again? Wilbur was sure he had broken that habit a few years back, and now rarely even thought about doing it except when he was nervous or scared. Sure, watching your dad's time machine get stolen and then losing the other one (after only turning your back on it for, like, one minute!) was nerve wracking, but he knew it hadn't upset him enough to bite nails down until they _bled_ without him even _noticing_.

Right?

"You've done stranger things, buddy." Carl pointed out.

Wilbur gasped and whirled around, eyes darting around the small closet rabidly. He felt his heart slow down a bit and grinned awkwardly to himself. No sign of his bro-bot, but that was to be expected, right? Carl wouldn't be invented for another, like, fifteen or twenty years. Wilbur had just imagined his friend's voice because he was nervous and it was quiet and Wilbur really did hate silence.

His right hand grabbed his left hand's thin wrist, mindlessly rubbing his thumb up and down the trapezium, every now and then catching a trace of his pulse by accident. A deepening sense of unease fell over him, and suddenly the closet felt small and extremely hot. Or maybe it was too cold.

Whatever it was, it was definitely too much of it, and Wilbur didn't even think about leaving the closet until he had already done it, closing the door as softly as he could behind him. Immediately he heard the soft snoring of someone in the room, and went to see if it was Lewis. The room held a bunk bed, and the sound was coming from the bottom bunk, where a small, dark-haired figure was snoring softly under blankets similar to the ones Lewis had given him. Wilbur didn't give the kid too much thought, grabbing the bunk ladder and lifting himself up quietly to the second bunk bed, where Lewis was most likely sleeping.

The top bed was empty, and not just of Lewis. There was neither a blanket nor a pillow, and the sheets looked ruffled, as if accidentally jerked. Had Lewis given him his blanket and pillow? But that meant he wouldn't have any himself, right?

Where was Lewis?

Being careful not to wake the sleeping child, Wilbur tiptoed out of the bedroom, slinking down the unfamiliar halls. Every step increased his feeling of uncertainty. Wilbur understood he needed to be discreet, that if anybody found him he'd have to answer a lot of questions he didn't have good answers for. But he wasn't familiar with the building, and was finding it increasingly difficult to navigate in the dark. Where was the staircase?

Wilbur froze. In the distance, he heard the sound of an approaching siren.

The boy took a deep breath, mentally chastising himself for his paranoia. This was the city in 2005! Sirens came and went all the time, right? No reason to think the noise had anything to do with him! Still, Wilbur waited, listening to the sound get closer and closer. He waited for the cars to pass the house and fade off into the distance, off to save the day or beat traffic or whatever it was cops did once those sirens went off.

The sirens came closer and closer till Wilbur could hear their noise go right in front of the building…and then, stop.

The siren turned off. In one of the hallway's windows Wilbur saw blue and red light, spinning, spinning. Where was Lewis?

Using the cunning of a well trained ninja warrior, or at least in a way Wilbur thought they might move like, he snuck over to the window, peeking out through the curtains to the street below. Down below were two cop cars, both with their sirens off but their lights on. What did that mean? What were they doing at Lewis's house? Was somebody from the orphanage in trouble?

Wilbur watched as the two cops, a man and a woman, began to walk up to the stairs, and he heard the front door open before they even got there.

He watched, wide-eyed, as Lewis walked out of the building.

"Lewis," Wilbur whispered, stunned, "You're not doing what it looks like you're doing…are you? Are you crazy?!" Wilbur watched as Lewis began to talk to the man, who nodded every once in a while to something Lewis said, and Wilbur wished he could open the window a smidge to hear what was being said, but was afraid it would draw attention to him. A million excuses for why Lewis was talking to the police ran through Wilbur's mind. Maybe someone else had called the police, and Lewis was just curious as to what was going on. Or maybe the cops were lost, and Lewis was giving them directions. Maybe…maybe…

Lewis then pointed up, up to the building, and it was probably just a random, vague pointing to the upstairs rooms, but by fates chance he ended up pointing directly at the window Wilbur was looking down from. The cops looked up at where he was pointing, probably out of habit, and that didn't matter because the cops didn't know what Wilbur looked like, and they probably weren't even here for that anyway, Wilbur reminded himself. Plenty of reasons for Lewis to be talking to cops that had nothing to do with Wilbur, right?

And then Lewis looked up and looked directly at Wilbur, stunned.

His guilty expression was all the answer Wilbur needed.

He took off running.

0

"Wilbur! Wilbur, stop!" Lewis had called to him, owl-eyed as he spotted the lanky boy come out from the side of the building, his thin sneakers slapping on the pavement as he ran.

Lewis jumped in fright when the two officers he had been talking to, Officer Weatherbee and Officer Smitch, both cried out "Halt!" as well, their boots heavy against the ground as they burst into chase. The cops still in the other vehicle turned on their siren and peeled out after them. Above him, Lewis's heart sank as nearly every window in the orphanage, and most of the neighboring buildings, suddenly lit up, faces peering through the glass to see the commotion below. Not that there was much to see. Wilbur was already out of sight.

This was not what Lewis had intended to happen. In Lewis's head, this had all played out very differently. In Lewis's head, Wilbur had been upset, but in the face of two men of authority, had quietly submitted and turned himself in. While Wilbur was being taken away, Lewis would have been scolded mildly by Mildred for letting in a stranger at night, but would have been ultimately congratulated for 'doing the right thing'. In his imagined scenario, he saw himself getting a phone call the next day from Wilbur's tearful but grateful mother, who would thank him profusely for the responsible way he had handled the situation, and would tell him that they were now giving Wilbur professional and loving help, and all in all Lewis would have been the hero that 'saved the day'.

The four-eyed boy had even played around with the idea of keeping in touch with Wilbur, who would be quickly cured of his delusions through advanced medicine and science, and that some time from now the teen would actually thank Lewis for turning him in.

However, a half hour later, after an interrogation and scolding by Mildred, when the cops were calling off the search empty-handed, Lewis realized that none of that would actually happen. Filling out a police statement, Lewis couldn't get Wilbur's confused and then betrayed look out of his head. "You did the right thing," all the adults kept congratulating him, and Lewis kept smiling and nodding, and had almost convinced himself that he actually believed that when the realization that Wilbur was now out on the streets at night by himself set in, and then all Lewis had wanted to do was go to bed.

That lone thought had kept him up that night, and had now followed him to school the next day. Mr. Willerstien had already had to remind Lewis once that day to pay attention, and that frustrated the boy genius. He had wanted to shout that he wanted to pay attention, Mr. Willerstien, but even now that he was gone that annoying jerk Wilbur kept bugging him!

Guilt over the Judas act Lewis had pulled was being overpowered by an annoyance so severe you could actually call it a silent rage at the boy that had run away last night. Didn't that jerk realize that Lewis and those cops were only trying to help? The guy thought he was from the future! It would have been terrible for Lewis to do anything other than try to get the little jerk help! Who was Wilbur to make Lewis feel guilty, when he was clearly in the right here? Everyone kept saying it, right? That Lewis had done the right thing. Not everybody could be wrong, right?

The image of Wilbur's wide-eyed, startled expression responded to the thought, and Lewis had to stop himself from growling in frustration.

Lewis glared out the window, not even trying to pay attention to class anymore, chewing on the end of his pencil absentmindedly. The secrets of sleep, which had so excited him the night before, did nothing to distract his mind from last night, so he turned his thoughts to his Memory Scanner. He would be picking it up after school, and once he got it home and repowered its batteries, he would be free to explore his infantile memories to his heart's content. Any questions about his past- why he was abandoned, who his parents were, whether or not either of them had ever loved him…it would all be answered tonight.

Lewis wished he had felt more optimistic about it, but the reality of what he was going to do had dawned on him that morning, when he was picking up his internship schedule from Mr. Willerstien. Questions he hadn't asked himself before were now preying at the back of his mind, pessimistic thoughts fighting for his attention. What if his mother had never loved him? What if his old home life was rotten and dirty?

What if no one from his past wanted him back?

The day was dark and gloomy. The storm from yesterday still hadn't reached full maturity, nor had the clouds moved on to the next city, the dark weather drifting overhead, bringing with it a cold wind and the taste of salt in the air. Above the school, storm clouds swirled menacingly, perhaps confirming the rumor that tornadoes might be coming up. Lewis couldn't help but think to himself that this was the kind of day worlds ought to end on.

Despite its morbidity, the statement wrung itself as true in his mind, and he cringed at the thought of it. He imagined tonight, the last night on earth, with the wind howling, the thunder bellowing, and out there all by himself was Wilbur…No! Lewis vehemently rejected the image, grinding his teeth in annoyance. He had finally just stopped thinking about the brain dead teen, yet once again the image of Wilbur's expression, his stunned betrayal, forced its way to the front of his mind.

He pictured Wilbur and felt guilty, and then he felt guilty about feeling guilty, because he had done the right thing. Everybody had said so. If Wilbur had been hurt, then it had been all been his own fault, because Lewis had done the right thing!

"Lewis?" Lewis gasped and jumped, thoughts pulled away his somewhat desperate rantings as he looked up at the concerned face of Mr. Willerstien. "Lewis, the bell has wrung, young man. Are you okay?"

Lewis blinked and looked around, seeing that Mr. Willerstien was right. The classroom was empty, and Lewis felt his face go scarlet red. He hadn't realized he had been spacing out that badly.

"Sorry. Mr. Willerstien." Lewis apologized, gathering up his things into his backpack before heading towards the door. He stopped when Willerstien softly called out to him, looking back to see the man looking at him with a mixture of concern and thoughtfulness.

"I heard about what you did last night, Lewis. That was very brave, the way you handled that rude young man," Mr. Willerstien flashed him a friendly, proud smile, "You did the right thing."

Lewis gave him a shaky smile before running out, head hung low.

He knew Mr. Willerstien was being nothing but sincere. But to Lewis, nothing had ever sounded so false.

1

Wilbur's breath was heavy and his bones like dead weight, exhaustion weighing him down as he stumbled through the construction site. He hadn't slept at all last night, despite his attempts to do so in a tube at the local playground, and both his mind and body were feeling the effects of it that afternoon. The construction site, blocked off by gates and coverings, was apparently not being worked on that day, and Wilbur decided to rest there until he could figure out where to go next. However, along with his exhaustion was a sort of restless need to keep moving, something coming from deep in his gut that hadn't given him peace since last night.

It was anger. A bitter, developing rage that made him pace up and down the site like a caged, frightened animal.

How could Lewis have done that to him?! Wilbur kept trying to wrap his mind around it. Lewis, intelligent, sweet Lewis who wanted so badly to make the world a better place, how could he have hurt Wilbur like this? It went against everything Wilbur had ever thought of Lewis.

Wilbur thought about the worn out brown book still hidden under his bed and cried, and then he forgot about the brown book and forgot why he was crying and thought about how mad his mom was going to be and started crying again. He wasn't bawling. He was too old to just sit down and sob, or so he told himself. No, these were the nearly suppressed tears of someone too angry, tired and frustrated for words. These were tears of exhaustion, and it was because of them that Wilbur hadn't heard the footsteps.

He cried out as someone landed a powerful blow to the back of his head, seeing stars as large, thin hands grabbed the scruff of his neck and arm, dragging him away before Wilbur had the chance to recover. He began to cry out in angry protest when the hands lifted him up, tossing him forward.

The ground didn't come up as quickly as it ought to, and Wilbur only realized he had been thrown into a hole after his face had hit the bottom of it. There was a frightening CRACK sound, and a flood of pain suddenly spouted from his shoulder, the pain waving through him like a solid fire. He cried out, crawling onto his back to stop the pressure in his shoulder. Feeling dizzy and with the vague knowledge he was going to throw up soon, he looked up into the light at the top of the hole, a shadow against the brightness peering idly down at him.

"Bowler hat guy…" Wilbur murmured, before finally passing out.

Above, the storm turned.

3

Goob walked over to the gymnasium, lollipop hanging loosely from his mouth as he idly leafed through his unicorn binder. _Go to Gym to help Roommate with Invention_. "Check," Goob said smugly, placing a little check in the box beside the task. Having a to-do list was something his mom had gotten him into when he was young. She had hated doing anything that was not on her list, and if something unexpected came up, she had liked to place it down in her checklist after she had done it, because "Things were tidier that way".

He remembered being six years old, and waddling over to his mother's beautiful checklist binder, and in the careful, focused writing of toddlers, had written: _Get hit by car_. Check.

Even back then, Goob had been a very literal-minded thinker.

"What?! What happened to my invention!?" a very familiar voice called out, its despair wringing melodramatically through the air. Goob rolled his eyes, putting his binder back into his backpack before running the last few feet to the gym, bursting in to see an extremely distraught Lewis holding up rubbage that had probably at one point been his invention.

"Ouch," Goob commented, grabbing Lewis's attention, who held the mess out for Goob's inspection in bewildered disbelief, "Looks like someone played a game of catch with your gadget, Lewis."

"Ugh!" Lewis growled, tossing the equipment into his wagon, "How could anyone do this? Coach said the gym was locked all night, so…so someone breaks into the gym, just to bust up my science experiment? What's the point of that!? I had plans for this thing!"

"Can't you fix it?" Goob asked, helping to pick up some bolts and knobs that had fallen from the demolished machine.

"Well, yes," Lewis admitted uneasily, before continuing mournfully, "But I definitely won't get it in working order by the end of the night. And I was so excited to…why has this been happening? So, what? I win the science fair and suddenly fate decides I need to be taken down a knotch? First there was Wilbur and now…"

Lewis stopped, his expression blank. No, not blank. It was an expression that Goob recognized as Lewis's "2 + 2 = both 4 _and_ fish, can't you see Goob?!" face. His "Eureka!" face. Then his expression twisted into such a nasty scowl that Goob actually raised an eyebrow, taking a lick of his lollipop as he watched the drama unfold.

"Wilbur…" Lewis growled, hands folding into fists, "Of course! Wilbur was mad about what I did last night, so he broke in here and trashed my invention! Oh, when I find him I'm going to, to…I don't know! I'm too mad to think of a good threat! Come on, Goob!" Lewis ordered, putting the last of his invention into the red wagon before violently pulling it to the exit.

Goob followed compliantly, as he had nothing better to do, "What's up? Where are we going?"

Lewis looked over at Goob, with fire in his eyes, "First, we're going to stop at home to drop this stuff off, and after that…" Lewis turned back to the door, though Goob could tell that the next few words were forced out through gritted teeth, "We're going to find Wilbur!"

4

"So, exactly how are we going to find this Wilbur guy again?" Goob asked after they had dropped off their things, the boys now walking down the street, one lazily, the other with vicious intent, "I mean, didn't the police lose him? Plus, he's had nearly all day to go somewhere else, there's no telling he's even in the county."

"He's here," Lewis said, with more confidence than he felt, "I did some research online this morning. Wilbur is convinced that he's from the future, and that he was sent back to protect me, or something like that. The site said that if a person has a strong enough delusion, nothing will convince them to abandon their delusional goal. Even if Wilbur is mad at me, he thinks he's supposed to protect me, so he'll still be in the area."

Goob nodded, but then pointed out, "Yeah, but what if he's faking? This all seems a little too weird to be true, you know?"

Lewis hesitated. The same thought had occurred to him, but… "You didn't see the way this guy talked about it, Goob. If he's an actor, then he ought to win a Grammy, his expression was so straight."

Goob shrugged, sucking on his lollipop as the two walked in silence a bit, Lewis's pace slowing now that he realized there really was no way of knowing exactly where Wilbur was at this point. They continued on a bit before Goob spoke up again, "So, why you?"

"What?" Lewis asked, honestly confused.

"Why did this guy decide that _you_ were the one he had to protect? Have you met him before?" Lewis shook his head, certain of this. Lewis had a feeling that even sane, Wilbur would be a guy hard to forget.

"I don't know." Lewis confessed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. It was pretty weird, when you thought about it. Lewis had his own personal stalker, and had no idea why. Wasn't this the sort of stuff that only happened on those TV shows Mildred loved so much? "Maybe when I find Wilbur, I'll beat the answer out of him."

Goob laughed at this, nearly choking on his lollipop, and Lewis had to share a slightly hurt smile. It was true though, it was hard to picture skinny, nerdy Lewis doing anything like that. Honestly, Lewis wasn't sure what he would do when he found Wilbur. Probably get mad and start yelling at him, if he was honest with himself.

Well, it didn't matter what he would do, if Lewis couldn't find Wilbur. He sighed, the gloom of the day really bringing him down, the wind starting to pick up. He wondered if the storm was finally going to break, and hoped he and Goob could get home before they got soaked when, suddenly, his ears prickled.

"Stop," Lewis told Goob, who glanced at him curiously, "Do you hear that?"

Goob paused and listened, a focused look on his face before his expression opened into mild surprise, "Sounds like…moaning? Ew, I hope we aren't walking by something inappropriate."

Lewis scrunched up his nose before shaking his head, "No, it sounds like someone's hurt." He looked at the wooden gate beside them, a sign on it that said in clear dark letters: Under Construction Trespassers will be Persecuted, "Sounds like it's coming from the other side. Let's see if we can find a way in." Lewis prompted, running down the fence to look for an opening. Goob looked at the trespassing sign and shrugged, following Lewis.

They eventually found a hole in the fence, just big enough for a child Lewis's size to squeeze through, though he tore his shirt in the process. Goob just walked through it.

"It was that way." Lewis surmised, he and Goob running back down to where they had heard the noise.

Near the gate they had been walking by was a large hole, dug for who knew what purpose. As they neared it, the moaning began again. To Lewis, it sounded strangely familiar…yet, despite his suspicions, he was still amazed when they got to the hole and, looking in, saw Wilbur curled into a corner.

"Wilbur!" Lewis cried out, catching the teen's attention, who looked up at him exhaustedly before letting his head slump, too tired to focus.

Goob licked his lollipop, "So, that's Wilbur huh? Heck of a coincidence, us finding him here…what's wrong with his shoulder?"

Lewis was about to ask "what about his shoulder?" when he spotted what Goob had noticed. Wilbur's shoulder was jutting out in an angle that looked disturbingly unnatural, and Wilbur was clutching his arm so hard that his knuckles had white spots all over them.

Above them, thunder rolled.

"Wilbur, are you alright?" Lewis asked, feeling dumb even as he asked, but needing to anyway. Wilbur wearily looked back up, only a dim recollection in his eyes as he focused on Lewis.

"Lewis…?" a brief flash of various emotions passed through Wilbur's face, before settling on tired resignation as he muttered, "Arm hurts. Can't get out. Tried."

Lewis grimaced. It certainly looked like he had tried. The dark-haired teen was covered in dirt, and his right hand, the uninjured arm, had red, angry-looking cuts all over it, probably from trying to grasp onto the rocks in the dirt walls at a foothold. The boy was very different then from the night before, his eyes dark and baggy from a fitful night, all the humor from his face gone as he seemed content just to sit in the dirt, worn out to the bone. Not to mention that awful thing with his shoulders, which as far as Lewis could tell was completely broken.

'And this is all from doing the right thing_._' Lewis thought to himself bitterly, looking around at the surrounding construction. Out loud he said, "Goob, we need to get help. Go find a phone booth or someone with a cell phone and call the police, tell them to bring an ambulance. I'll stay here to keep an eye on Wilbur."

Goob shrugged, "Sure, but, I don't think _he's_ too happy with that plan," Goob pointed out, gesturing to Wilbur. Lewis looked down to see Wilbur trying to stand up, shaking his head violently.

"N-no! Don't call the cops! They'll take me away!" Wilbur argued, knees shaking as he managed to stand up right, "I can get out on my own, I can-" Wilbur was cut off as he collapsed, his legs unable to support his weight as his knees buckled, sending him crashing down on his butt. Wilbur cried out, clutching at his arm before becoming coherent enough to look Lewis in the eye, "D-don't call the police Lewis, they won't believe me! I-I'm not crazy, but they'll send me to the ward anyway! Lewis!"

Wilbur kept crying out to him as Lewis backed away from the hole, not to go get a phone, but just to think for a moment. Wilbur was hurt, and trapped, and still absolutely psycho. He needed an ambulance, and his parents, wherever they were, were probably worried sick about him. Plus, this time, there would be no way for Wilbur to avoid getting the help he needed, unable to climb out of the hole; let alone run. Lewis knew he had to call the police again. It was the right thing to do.

Lewis paused, before sighing. He walked off.

He came back with a rope.

"Here Goob," Lewis said, handing Goob one end of the rope, "You think you can climb in and out of this hole?"

Goob raised an eyebrow, checking out the dirt wall, "This thing? Easy. But, are you sure you want to do that? What are we gonna do, take him home with us? Neither of us are exactly trained doctors, Lewis."

Lewis bit his lip, "Well, no, but I've found I can do pretty much anything if I read enough about it, so I can look up how to set a shoulder online. Besides, the human body is just like a squishy, liquidy machine, and I'm great with those. It's just…he's right, ya know. If I call the cops, they'll probably send him to a mental ward till he's, like, eighteen, and I don't know if I can stomach being responsible for that. Will you help me?"

Goob licked his lips, thinking about it carefully before shrugging, taking the end of the rope and jumping into the hole. Goob wasn't the bad boy type, but he was known to be somewhat morally ambiguous. Plus, he always tended to take the first bit of advice he heard, using said with the same sort of literal-mindedness that had possessed him to finish up his mothers checklist.

Wilbur barely looked at Goob as he came up to him, his initial panic having drained him of any energy he had left. He allowed Goob to tie a rope around his waist, good and tight, before climbing back up to Lewis, who was gripping the rope with both hands.

"Alright Wilbur, get to your feet, I'm not dragging you to the top. I'm just helping you climb up." Lewis informed him, frowning as Wilbur just looked wearily at him, "Up, Wilbur!"

Wilbur sighed, once again shakily getting up on his legs, though this time his legs didn't give out beneath him. He was just stumbling over to the wall when he was startled to a stop. A large drop of water splashed onto his nose and into his eyes, and wiping it away, he looked up at the sky, as did the other two boys.

The rain poured.

The storm had broken.

Elsewhere…

_The man laughed, the mean type of laugh of someone laughing not for laughter's sake, but in order to make someone else feel bad._

_He had been waiting, all afternoon, for the boy to come. He had laid his boy into the dirt and had waited to see how the other one would react. It had never occurred to him that the blond wouldn't show, as this was not how the man's mind worked. He had wanted the boy to show up, his experiment had depended on the boy showing up, and thus as far as he was concerned, there was nothing the boy could do _but_ show up._

_He chuckled at the boy's decision, and howled in laughter when the rain had broken. He had taken her and kept her under his coat, partly to protect her from the water, but mostly as a fond embrace._

_The clouds hid the sky, but the man knew there was no moon that day._

_It was not a full moon yet._

-To Be Continued-


	4. Chapter 4

Authors Note

_Any guess which show our Special Guest Appearance comes from? Cookie if you get it right!_

Chapter Four

The rain poured hard, and the sky screamed. It was a terrifying sound.

"Goob, the hole's filling! Hurry up!" Lewis warned, clutching the rope desperately. He could barely see through his rain-splattered glasses, and after wiping them off several times he got frustrated and took them off, now blurrily squinting through the rain.

Below, Goob was trying to find a way to climb the previously simple wall. Dirt had quickly turned into mud, and Goob had been trying to find a dry or rocky spot Wilbur could climb up. But as each second passed, the dirt grew slicker and slicker, to the point where climbing out would be a struggle even for Goob, let alone the badly hurt Wilbur.

Wilbur was sitting down, shivering. His eyes had grown fuzzy, and he watched the scene without much concern or even interest. Wilbur's mind had gone somewhere else, somewhere to the back of his head where there was an old comfy chair and a large screen tv, and it was only in the television that all of this was happening. Still, somewhere in his burning forehead, a thought bubbled up as a lone rebellion, admitting to itself out loud that, no, all was not well. Wilbur didn't like this little rebellious thought, as it was young and uppity and ought to listen to its older, wiser thoughts, but had to admit that it had a point. He tried to open his mouth to tell Lewis, dude, go ahead, call someone, I think we're a little over our heads here. However, he found the effort too taxing, only able to get a slight squeak out before giving up and settling back into the mud.

Sitting down, the water reached up to Wilbur's waist, and it was rising.

Goob climbed out, breathing heavily and looking like something straight out of his and Lewis's comic books, "It's no good," Goob wheezed, grabbing at a bit of the rope that Lewis wasn't holding onto, "The wall's as solid as a cup of pudding, if I go down again, I probably won't be able to climb up, let alone with Wilbur. We're just going to have to pull him up!" Goob had to yell to be heard as the wind picked up, the wind howling through the metal gates of the site.

Lewis looked down into the hole and wondered how much Wilbur weighed. For the first time in young Lewis's life, he wished he was strong, instead of smart. Smart had gotten him into this whole mess in the first place, and now only strength would get them out, and Lewis had very little confidence in his pencil arms. He thought ruefully of the Lewis of just this morning, who had seen the Coach and couldn't help but laugh to himself, convinced that those who mastered their bodies in strength rather than brains were outdated barbarians, holding onto a long obsolete show of alpha. Watching the water rise faster, Lewis suddenly wished he had gone to the gym, at least once.

Lewis took a deep breath, "Wilbur! You have to get up Wilbur, we're going to try and pull you up, okay!?"

Wilbur looked up, his eyes dazed, and slowly nodded. The water had risen to his stomach sitting, though thankfully standing up it only reached to his knees. That meant there was time to be careful. Wilbur got to his feet and, looking unsteady for moment, face tight, the boys watched to see if he would fall down. After a moment, he steadied. Proud of this feat, Wilbur looked up at Lewis and Goob, his eyes slightly lucid for the first time since they got here, and grinned.

Then he bent over and threw up.

Lewis cringed at the sight and Goob groaned in empathy nausea. As Lewis noticed how pale Wilbur's face was, it suddenly occurred to him to wonder how long Wilbur had been down here before they had found him. The construction site clearly had not been used today, and Wilburs hands had already been torn up from trying to climb out before they had gotten there. How long? An hour? A few hours?

Since last night?

Lewis wasn't a doctor, but it didn't take a genius to guess that trauma with the fall and his shoulder, as well as long term exposure to the chilly and damp air that had been lingering all day, might mess with the immune system a bit. However, Lewis _was_ a genius, and he could guess suddenly that Wilbur's drowsiness and disorientation might be less from pain and more from failing health, and that Lewis had to get him somewhere warm, _now_.

Wilbur wiped his mouth, clutching clumsily a nearby mud wall as again he steadied himself, giving out a shaky, "I'm okay!" though it could barely be heard in the noise of the storm. Lewis and Goob got the message anyway when the boy managed to give them a thumbs up, moving around apparently clearing his head up a bit.

'It's not that deep,' Lewis thought to himself as he and Goob began to pull, grunting at the effort, 'Just six, seven feet at most. If we could just pull him up…pull him up!'

Gasping the rope with his good hand, the rest of it tied tightly around his waist, Wilbur felt the pull of the rope as he stumbled, pulled closer against the wall. He winced as the rope bound around his waist pulled up into under his armpits, his shoulder screaming as above, Lewis and Goob pulled with all their strength.

His feet didn't even leave the ground.

Lewis and Goob pulled with all their might, and at times Wilbur could feel himself beginning to lift up, but he never actually rose. At one point his feet were even lifted up onto their tippy toes, and it looked as if progress was being made, but just as he was beginning to rise Lewis's and Goob's strength let out, Wilbur stumbling back onto his butt as a result. The water made a splash. Sitting down, it was up to Wilburs shoulders. He quickly stood up again, though he had to lean against the side of the mud wall, overcome by dizziness.

Above Lewis and Goob gasped and wheezed. "Wilbur is not as light as he looks," Goob pointed out needlessly, just as frustrated with his own strength as Lewis had been. He knew him and Lewis together were strong enough to get Wilbur out, he just knew it! They just needed a little help, one extra little pull to help get Wilbur into the air…

The rain poured. Lewis's face was very wet. When he spoke, his voice was tight.

"I'm sorry Wilbur…we can't get you out," Lewis whispered, though his small voice somehow cut through the air better than their screaming had earlier, "Man…Wilbur…we have to call…we have to call someone, you understand? We can't do it by ourselves, we need…we need grownups, official people, people who know what they're doing. Me and Goob can't do it. Do you understand?"

Wilbur didn't answer. Looking close at him, Lewis could see that the boy wasn't even listening, his eyes glazed to the point where he looked stoned, his body shivering violently. The effort of climbing out had taken the last of Wilburs strength, and Lewis did not doubt that the boy would pass out soon. At this point, Wilbur wouldn't even notice the sound of sirens, or blue and red lights, let alone make a run for it.

"I'm so sorry Wilbur," Lewis said again.

The rain said, "Maybe I can help." Lewis blinked, than glanced at Goob, who seemed just as startled. Then the rain made a little "Hehem." sound, and blinking at each other, Goob and Lewis in unison turned around, and saw a pair of small, feminine shoes.

Umbrella in hand, Franny grinned nervously, "I'm stronger then I look," she said, then added in way of explanation, "I take karate."

"What are you doing here?" both the boys asked her, before turning to each other, "You know her?"

"I met her at the fair, how do _you_ know her?" Lewis asked Goob, having to shout to be heard over the rain again.

Goob gapped and blinked furiously before sputtering out, "W-what does it matter!? There's no way a girl can help us! She's a girl! What is she even doing here!?"

Franny frowned, crossing her arms while holding the umbrella, "If you must know, I like to take walks in the rain, and I happened to hear you guys doing…whatever it is you're doing here. Why is that boy in the hole? Doesn't he know that's dangerous?"

Lewis grinned shakily, "Yeah, I think he's aware. Could you really help us? We'd call the police but…we're trying to avoid the fuss it would bring." It was as close to the truth as Lewis was willing to get.

Goob shook his head furiously. Lewis wondered why his face was all red. "No, she's a girl, and a tiny one at that! We have to call someone. I'll go do it now!"

Franny scowled, tossing aside her umbrella, "Oh, so you think that because I'm a girl, I can't help!? Grab the rope!"

Franny had an authoritive voice, and before they knew what they were doing, Goob and Lewis had both already grabbed the rope, Franny clutching the last bit in front of them. She looked back at them, "At my mark, we all pull. Once we get him in the air, it should be easy from there. You guys ready?!"

Before either had time to answer, Franny screamed "Pull!" her voice again winning out as both boys started pulling before they even realized what they were doing. Below Wilbur groaned as his body was jerked forward again, though this time the pull was harder, more focused, more unified…and Wilbur rose.

Thunder bellowed, lightning illuminating the strange sight. Wilbur was rising!

"Pull! Pull! Pull!" Franny screamed, and before they knew it they were all pulling to this beat, grasping more and more of the rope in rhythm. The rain pounded against them and wind pushed and pulled at them, but all the three children knew at this moment was that when Franny cried "Pull!" Wilbur rose a little more, and it continued on like this until, before anyone could even realize it had happened, Wilbur was over the edge, laying with the rest of them as they panted and gasped, their efforts this time justified with success.

Lewis didn't know if it could be called a divine reward or a cruel irony, but just as they were done, the storm followed suit, and beams of sunlight broke through the disintegrating clouds.

1

Once they had all gotten their wits returned to them, there was a rather heated debate about what to do next.

"What do you mean, we're not taking him to the hospital!?" Franny cried out, stunned. She had gotten a real good look at Wilbur when they had hauled him over the side, and knew that the teen was not okay. As soon as the danger had passed, the black haired boy had passed out, "Are you insane?!"

"Look, me and Goob are just going to take him home with us, okay? He'll be fine!" Lewis argued, though the argument was weak. He too saw the folly in not getting Wilbur some medical help. The words 'infection', 'fever', and 'dislocated bones' rung through his head, and in all his vast knowledge, he found that other then what they meant, these words were a totally foreign concept to him.

"He will _not_ be fine!" Franny argued, hands on her hips, "He _will_ be dead! I did not just ruin my best dress to haul him out of there, just so that he could die! Look, it's got a tear in it and everything!...wait, why did I ruin my dress to do this? Why exactly didn't you guys call for help before I even got here? Are you two stupid or something, this guy was in real danger down there! What if the water had risen above his head before we got him up? What, did you think he could swim up with a busted shoulder? Idiots."

Lewis rubbed is temple. He hadn't been called stupid before, ever, and it was irking him. "Look, we have our reason, okay?! We just can't take him to a hospital, end of story!"

"Why?" Franny demanded, tapping her foot impatiently as Goob and Lewis glanced at each other, unsure of how to get out of this, "Don't even think I'm just going to let you drag this kid away so that he can be permanently maimed without any explanation. This is stupid, and I know I'm right."

Goob sighed, lying down as Lewis and Franny glared at each other, "Whatever Lewis, just tell her already. We do kind of owe her, or something." Goob said this last bit reluctantly. In fact, every time he spoke ever since Franny came had been reluctant and hesitant, and Lewis noticed that his friends face kept going red every time he looked at the girl. 'Is he really that mad that a girl helped us?' Lewis wondered, before returning his attention to girl in question. She certainly had a way of getting on ones nerves…but Goob was right. They owed her the truth.

So Lewis explained everything, starting from when he and Wilbur had first met, to last night, to finding him the next afternoon. By the time Lewis was done, Franny was nodding in understanding, though her eyebrow was cocked slightly, as if she found everything she had just heard mildly ridiculous.

"So, you're trying to tell me…" Franny started, finger on her chin thoughtfully, "That this guy is totally crazy, and thinks he's from the future?"

The blond nodded.

"And that, because you had reported him, the police know he's crazy, and he's also now probably in trouble for breaking and entering, and running from authority?"

Lewis nodded again, though he winced this time. He hadn't thought about that.

"So that if we go to the hospital, one of the faculty will probably call in an officer, who will recognize you all and then Wilbur, that's his name right? Wilbur would then get arrested?" Franny finished, eyebrow still cocked.

"Well…we weren't worried so much about him getting arrested, more so committed." Lewis replied gravely, not happy that a new trouble had been added to the pile, "I don't really know the guy so well, but I do know he's scared of being sent to the mental hospital, and I don't really blame him. If he tells the police the same thing he told me, which I think under pressure he would, and if they can't find his parents, he'll probably be sent to live in Saint Anne's Institute till he's eighteen!"

Franny frowned, nodding, "Ew, that building down by highway 54? I pass by that thing every weekend when my parents take me to this fruit stand we go to. The gates are always locked, and I never see anybody outside it. It's really creepy."

Lewis nodded, "Yeah, now, imagine living there for the next four years."

There was a silence. Then a shiver. The day was finally starting to warm up.

"So, that's why we can't take him to a hospital." Lewis finished, "If we do, he'll definitely get caught."

Franny's eyes narrowed as she shook her head furiously, only just remembering the argument, "No! Not taking him to get help is still a really, really dumb idea! You guys have to get him help!"

"Where?!" Lewis shouted, frustrated beyond belief by the stubbornness of this girl, when none of this was even any of her business. "Where on earth could we take him!?"

Goob looked up, "I have an idea."

2

Working at a walk in clinic sucked, but Dr. Reed knew she needed the cash.

All day, every day, she worked with gun shots and stab wounds, doctoring to people who for some reason or another, found they would prefer the treatment of a nickel store hospital rather than the real thing. Reed was getting herself checked weekly for HIV, she handled blood so frequently these days. Still, Reed found a sort of morbid pride in just how gruesome her job had become lately. As a little rich girl who grew up in mansions her whole life, the teenager who used to be nauseated by the idea of even looking at a broken nail, she was finding that very little shocked her now. The Doctor inside of her, that often had to beat down the emotional woman and the rich inner child parts of her, had become as steely cold and un-frazzled as any doctor could dream to be. As the days grew and she began to view life threatening injuries as just another norm in the day, she continued to jump between being horrified with her apathy, and patting herself on the back for it.

Then she called for her next patient, and her heart broke as three filthy children walked sullenly in, one child hoisting a fourth unconscious child on his back. Each child looked as if they could use a check up, but no doubt this was the child they had brought in for her to see.

The children all looked like they had been rolling around in mud, and were soaking wet, no doubt having had been caught in the heavy rain that came down not an hour ago. The littlest boy looked like he hadn't slept well in weeks, and the lone girls dress was torn and filthy. The boy holding the unconscious one was thin and very pale, and his glasses were rimmed with dirt and slightly bent.

'A gang of street children,' Dr. Reed decided, stomach clenching in sympathy, 'Homeless, orphans no doubt. Most likely just got into a tuffle with a rival street gang, the poor things.'

They came in quietly, watching the Doctor with a certain wariness as they laid the tallest boy down on the bed, which Reed remembered with some regret that she had forgotten to change. Things were so much easier when there were orderlies and interns around to do those sorts of things. Then the blond turned to her, blue eyes behind those bent glasses, a smile suddenly materializing on his face as if the boy had just recalled that he ought to play nice with the grown up. "Hi, I'm L…Lou, we we're wondering if you could help our friend W…William out, Doctor…?"

Dr. Reed raised an eyebrow out the blond, who seemed very polite and well spoken for a kid that had grown up on the streets. She turned towards her patient; who had not stirred from the spot his friends had placed him. His hands were covered in scratches, and she could see that there was some mild bruising on the side of his neck, but the real concern was the shoulder, which was clearly dislocated. Going over and placing a hand on his forehead, she saw that he was also running a bit of a temperature, which needed to be looked after.

Dr. Reed sighed, because she knew what she had to do before she was allowed to look him over any further. Turning to the oldest looking kid and feeling like an ass, she said, "I'm Dr. Reed, certified, so there's nothing for you kids to worry about, I can have your friend fixed up right and good. But first…I don't suppose you kids have any…insurance?"

The kids looked up at her, confused. She tried again, "Maybe your par-…um, nevermind. What I mean to say is…do you children have any way of paying for this visit?"

Horrified, the kids looked at each other, panic spreading across their features. They had clearly not considered the matter of money.

"You know what; we'll discuss that after I get your friend fixed up, eh?" Dr. Reed consoled, turning back to the boy. She first went for the shoulder, and in the motion of doing so went into Doctor Mode. She was no longer a woman, looking down at poor, injured children, but a doctor dealing with a patient.

The shoulder looked worst then it was, and Dr. Reed had no doubt felt worse than it was as well. It would be easy to set, it wouldn't even need to be snapped back into place; time could heal this. As long as the boy had some pill for the pain and didn't put any stress on his shoulder at all, the bone would relocate and heal itself within a few weeks.

The fever was more worrying. It could have just been a short term reaction to the pain of the trauma, but Dr. Reed knew it would be folly not to consider it could be more. If it was the start of some sort of illness, then even something as innocent as the flu could turn deadly on the street, where bodies tended to be under extreme condition constantly. Just yesterday a young druggie had run in with her toddler, the young child scarred and bleeding profusely, simply because the mother had taken no notice for days that the child had contracted chicken pox.

For fifteen minutes Reed looked and examined the boy over, the muddy thing never waking, though grunting now and then whenever he was shifted. Finally she decided that anti-bacteria would take care of the fever, and as she set the shoulder. As she did all this, she talked aloud to herself, deciding on the dosage to recommend and taking out the set of pills that they would need to write down the prescription number. Two pills a day for the next week would probably work, and she forced two of the pills down as he slept.

Dr. Reed had practically forgotten the other children until she was done, and then the doctor left and the woman came back. The woman sighed as the doctor whispered what they had to do, the two sides of herself mutually in agreement.

Dr. Reed smiled the kind of smile that only adults give to children, "Alright kids, we'll discuss the matter of payment in a minute," she said, her voice full of cheer, "But I wouldn't worry about it too much, I'm sure we'll come up with something. But first, I have to hand in the paperwork, so you kids stay put and I'll be right back."

The children nodded quietly as she left. Dr. Reed sighed again and went over to the back room. Inside she caught her filer doing what he always did, which was not much at all. "Jessie," Reed greeted, her co-worker looking up from his sandwich dutifully, "Could you call that one guy that was here two days ago, um, Officer Johnson? We got a group of kids that might be homeless, maybe runaways, you know how it is. Do it quick, they don't know I'm calling. Thanks."

Jessie nodded, popping a chip into his mouth as he reached for the phone. Reed rolled her eyes, grabbing a clipboard before heading back into the observation room.

"Okay kids, I'm just going to need some medical information and…kids?"

The room was empty.

3

"We just broke a law."

"Awesome."

The three kids were running, well, running as well as they could while Lewis towed an unconscious teen on his back.

"We just totally broke a law," Lewis continued, sweating in the chill, "We stole a prescription medicine, and skipped on a doctor's bill. We are in so much trouble."

"Not if they don't catch us," Goob pointed out, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Guys, stop!" Franny gasped, slowing to a stop, completely winded, "I think all the jumping around is undoing Wilbur's sling. You remember what the lady said, no stress of the shoulder, or else."

Lewis set Wilbur down, being careful not to disturb the sling. Some people passed by, the sun out for the first time in days, but no one paid the children any mind.

"It'd be easier if he would just wake up already," Goob complained, poking Wilbur in the head, which rolled to the side compliantly, "What a bum. How are we going to sneak him up into our room without being noticed, Lewis?"

Lewis bit his lower lip, "I don't really know," He confessed. Mentally he had already labeled what they were doing as 'taking Wilbur in,' like one would with a stray dog, but that same problem arose with Wilbur as it would with a dog. Where do you keep it?

Even if they managed to get Wilbur up to their room by some miracle, how long would he be able to hide? A day? At best a week? You couldn't lock some kid up in a closet and expect all to be well.

But at the moment they didn't have any other option, and after a long discussion, came up with The Plan.

4

"Mildred!" Goob called out as he ran into the orphanage building, jumping up and down and shouting, "Mildred! Where is everyone, I want you all to see something!"

"Goob?" Mildred yawned, dawdling out of the kitchen, the guardian in her favorite skirt and top, which meant she was in a good mood. 'Perfect,' Goob thought to himself.

"Mildred, you have to get everybody, it is absolutely the coolest thing!" Goob shouted profusely, grabbing at the hem of Mildred skirt and tugging a bit. Mildred couldn't help but be startled by Goob's out of character behavior; the boy tended not to get so enthusiastic about…anything.

"Wow, this must be really something," Mildred obliged, "What is it?"

"You'll see, but everybody has to come!" Goob shouted extra loud, feeling rather than seeing the eyes of the other kids as they peeked out of their rooms to see what the fuss was all about, "It's amazing!"

Mildred laughed at Goob's catching excitement, putting down her coffee at a nearby counter, "Alright, alright, go gather everyone that wants to see and we'll all go see this 'amazing' thing."

"Everybody has to come and see it!" Goob repeated, running off to sell the idea to the rest of the kids, "Everybody has to come outside and see it!"

5

Click. Grunt.

Click. Grunt.

"…Lewis, what are we doing?"

"…" Growl.

"Lewis?"

"Oh sure, now you wake up!"

Wilbur's fever had lessened after being force-fed the anti-biotics, so he was quicker to pick up the immediate and absurd danger he was in. He and Lewis were suspended in the air, Lewis climbing up the first part of a fire escape, the ladder shaking and wobbling in Lewis's grasping hands. Wilbur's hands were tied together and were wrapped around Lewis's shoulder, as were his knees around Lewis's waist. Wilbur could only assume this was to keep him from falling during the journey up, and that this wasn't anything weird on Lewis's part.

Lewis was having a difficult time up, to say the least.

"You are the most," grunt, another shaky step up, "Annoying person in the world, do you know that Wilbur? We had to," Grunt, another step, "go to Franny's to wash all that mud off of us and Goob had to borrow some of Franny's brothers old clothes, and I'd have done so too but," grunt, "you were all muddy, so I knew I would just get muddy all over again and," grunt, "Do you know how hard it is to find rope outside of a construction site? It's hard! And this could all have been avoided if you had just," grunt, step, "woken up a half an hour ago, you jerk!"

"Uh, sure Lewis, whatever you say," the ladder wobbled frighteningly as Lewis shoved his legs up a little harder than necessary to get to the next step, "Um, could you not kick the ladder Lewis? I don't mean to be a prophet of doom, but those nails are kind of rusty, and if we fall I'm pretty sure we'll be followed by a loud SPLAT sound."

"Shut up," Lewis said, the anger gone now, replaced with exhaustion as he focused on getting up the next step, "You're annoying, you know that?"

"I think you might have mentioned that, yeah." Wilbur agreed good-naturedly.

"Just hold on. When I get us up to the steps, I'll untie you and we can walk the rest of the way up, got it?" Lewis said. Just a few more steps…

"Got it!" Wilbur repeated dutifully, suddenly distracted by his arms. At first he had been sure that his arms were tied together to loop around Lewis, and that the tie was creating the numbness in his limbs. But as he slowly gained the feeling back in his arms, he realized that only one arm was wrapped around Lewis's shoulder, the thing secured by a mad process of rope binding. Then, where was the other arm…?

And that's when he noticed the pain.

"Jeez!" Wilbur cried, looking down at his left arm in amazement, the familiar appendage made foreign, bound in a crude white sling, "What happened to my arm!?"

"Don't move, stop moving!" Lewis ordered, Wilbur's physical outburst unsettling his grip slightly. Oh, just three more steps, three long, long steps, "What do you mean, what happened to your arm? Don't you remember!?"

"Remember?...oh…oh! Bowler Hat Guy!" Wilbur cried, one more unsettling Lewis's grip as he jostled around in enraged indignation, "That no good, donkey face…ugh! He pushed me into a hole out at the…the…?"

"Construction site," Lewis informed him through gritted teeth. Just two more, just two more! "Don't you remember anything after that?"

Lewis could feel Wilbur frown by his ear, "Um, not really. I think I was out for awhile, and I remember waking up…then I tried climbing out, but that didn't work, because something started to really, really hurt. Anyway, I fell back down, and when I hit the floor the thing that was hurting, like, exploded, and everything after that is kind of fuzzy…what happened? How did you find me?...and, why are we wet?"

Lewis pulled them over the edge, breathing heavily on the metal grating, his relief rudely disturbed by Wilbur's awkward squirming, "I'll explain later." He sighed, lifting himself up with Wilbur's now long familiar weight. "Now let's get you off of me. Think you can stand?"

"Yep." Wilbur said confidently. Lewis nodded and began to untie the knots, first starting with the legs, and when Wilbur had his feet on the ground, untied the arm. It was only after the release of his arm that Wilbur began to feel dizzy, and he quickly had to steady himself on Lewis, his legs feeling weak as he said with some amazement, "Woah, there's something wrong with me."

"I'll agree with that," Again, Lewis sighed, allowing Wilbur to throw an arm around him for support, "Don't worry, we'll go through the first window and climb up the indoor stairs. The building should be empty by now."

Wilbur nodded before frowning, "Wait, why would the building be empty?"

Lewis laughed, and the sound was so unusual for Wilbur, who had only ever seen Lewis proud or annoyed, that he had to look over to see if it was actually Lewis helping him out and not an imposter. His suspicion was not appeased when he spotted the smirk on the other boys face as he said, "I've met…the _craziest_ chick today."

6

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Goob called out, from atop the quick makeshift stage of three wooden boxes pushed together, "Boogers and Braids! May I have your attention please!"

"Oh my, now isn't this exciting?" Mildred whispered to one of her charges, sitting up in the front row of the large audience. Goob had managed to get everybody in the building interested in this 'amazing' thing that Goob wanted to show off, and so they all say on the ground in front of the stage. The buzz was high as the kids all guessed and rumored about what this show was all about, and it was all Goob could do to get everybody to quiet down.

"You're all probably wondering, why on Earth I've gathered you all down here." Goob surmised, feeling perfectly relaxed under the intense scrutiny of his audience. He met their stare with a look of confidence, of even cockiness, and the children began to feel themselves get excited. Goob was, apparently, a natural on the stage.

"Today, while walking down the street, my eyes caught the most beautiful face on the street, singing the most sweetest tunes." As Goob talked, a boy in the middle isle noticed a hat by him, the kind you would see in those old gangster movies.

He noticed it because it was breathing.

"I walked over to this girl, down there at that street, and I said," Goob paused, "Girl, how are you making that beautiful noise, when as far as I can tell you mouth doesn't move, not even at the noises peak? Are you a magician?"

Elsewhere, situations similar to the isle boy were occurring. A big gray coat was starting to hop, a shoe here and a shoe there, both starting to jump. And they all headed towards the stage.

"And do you know what that girl said to me?" Goob asked, grinning as the clothes hopped onto the stage, the audiences amazed eyes staring fixedly at it as the clothes settled near the back of the boxes, "She said…!"

Goob jumped off the stage, and as he did so, Franny rose up from the back of the boxes, going in through the coat in such a mastery of skill that for a moment it looked as if Franny was just growing into the clothes, the only things left alone being the shoes which she jumped by.

And everything paused, and the silence was strong, and then those shoes started to dance.

"I said the music's in my feet," Franny sang, the sound from an old blues, the shoes jumping and hopping like crazy, "I said the music's in my feet, and I don't make a sound, because my feet is how I get around, and you aint the first to come and ask me why I sing the blues, but I just laugh at the inquiry, because my friend, you see, my music is as green as it can be!"

And then, on cue, all the frogs in her clothes and in the shoes jumped out, and continued jumping, up and around Franny with the skill and grace of synchronized swimmers, the process so quick and constant that it looked as if Franny stood in the middle of a living, breathing, green fountain. Then Franny struck out two of her arms to both side of her, and all the frogs jumped on her arms, and sat there as Franny said, "You've heard the blues. Want to hear the greens!?"

The crowd gapped in amazement before ripping out into encouraging cheers, and as they cheered, Franny's hat began to bounce, until finally the hat was bounced off, and on her head was a single lone frog, who seemed to sit up straighter then the other frogs.

"Sing it Frankie!" Franny encouraged.

And everybody admitted afterwards, as they laughed and giggled and applauded home, that that frog couldn't talk, but man could it sing.

Taking their bows, Goob whispered to Franny, "You think we gave them enough time?"

Franny grinned as the audience cheered for another bow, saying through the tight grin, "They better have, because I'm not supposed to do that show in public, and my parents are going to have a fit when they find out."

In a place less happy, Where there was little such cheer…

_The man had watched, and then he had gone home._

_He did not know how he felt._

_He had laughed at the show, because it had been funny, but when it was all said and done, he did not know he felt._

_It was good that the boy had lived. He was still useful, very useful, and oh they had plans…_

_It was good that the boy had lived, because he had very nearly died. The man did not know how he felt, so he went to ask her._

_She didn't say much, but what she did say put his mind at ease. There was no love lost, between him and the boy. The little cretin had it coming, for what he had done to the man. There was no excuse, no excuse at all. The boy only lived now because he was useful, because there was no excuse for him to live otherwise. He couldn't get away with what he did. There was no excuse, no excuse at all._

_The moon was not full._

-To Be Continued-


	5. Chapter 5

_Authors Note:_

_Sorry this has taken so long guys! My Betta has disappeared and I can't seem to get ahold of her, so I've been leaving it, hoping she'd get back to me but…well, I just hope she's okay. Anyway, I figured I ought to not make you guys wait anymore. I guess for a couple of chapters I'll just edit myself (Oooh, there's going to be so many errors…). Sorry if the quality isn't as good as usual, and I hope you all enjoy the chapter!_

Chapter Five

Mrs. Robinson was not prepared to call her coffee patches a failure.

Oh, sure, they were extremely addictive and perhaps a tad too strong, and she was also pretty sure the patches were doing some odd things to her regular heart rate (As in, even off the patches it wasn't going any slower than that of an excited kitten). There was also the minor problem that the patches could also be used as a hallucinogenic, as poor Mr. Ember had confirmed, though the man was sure to be well enough to leave the ward any day now. Sure, these were all minor setbacks that would need to be addressed…but, the patch wasn't a failure, per se.

After all, she had never had so much energy!

"Duboff, bring out the recent files for the 'Anderson' project, will you dear. Michael A, go find Michael B, I want to get started on those radiation testing's as soon as possible. Mr. Glowey won't wait forever, ya know!" Mrs. Robinson stopped in the middle of the hallway she had been walking down, her assistant and co-workers rushing to keep up. She blinked rapidly for a bit before suddenly whirring around, her eyes focusing intently on one of the frightened assistant with a big, manic smile, "Jonathon, are you working today? I thought you had today off? Oh well, could you get me a coffee deary, I've been feeling sluggish. There's a good man."

Jonathon Miles, the newest of the lab assistants, gapped at her through the entire two seconds it had taken her to say her instructions. His boss looked like she was having a mild seizure, she was shaking so much. Plus, though he hadn't been keeping count, it looked as if there were more patches on her arms then there had been this morning, when he had gotten in to work.

He considered briefly telling Dr. Robsinson that he didn't think her having any more coffee would be a good idea, but one look at her wide eyed stare and her large grin with just a tad too many teeth.... well, he eventually just went silently to go brew up a cup. Mrs. Robinson was sweet and fun, the kindest boss he had ever had the good fortune to have…however, there was something vaguely frightening about her while she was heavily caffeinated. She was incredibly intelligent, and when she looked at you with all that energy and potential at her fingertips, her thoughts probably racing a million miles a second, you always got the impression that if she ever felt inclined to, she could probably take over the world without too much fuss, thank you dearie.

Jonathon Miles was, in fact, correct. However, Mrs. Robinson had never been the type to be overly ambitious, so instead of considering the quickest way to take over the world, her mind was instead whipping away at the different recipes she ought to try out on her husband for dinner that night. She was deciding on a rump roast, because the name amused her. So much so that she started laughing maniacally, and this was how Lewis found her.

"Umm…Dr. Robinson…?" Lewis asked hesitantly. He was wearing his best clothes, a little business suit, and he had a clipboard, which he was holding in a way that showed he was considering using it in self defense. The clipboard hadn't been assigned to him, he had brought it himself. It was his first day as an intern, and he had wanted to be prepared. As he watched his bosses face turn purple with laughter, he realized he hadn't prepared enough.

Mrs. Robinson let out a final loud snort before looking down, a pleasantly surprised grin splitting her face at the sight of the new intern. "Oh, Lewis! My goodness, is it your first day already? My, how the time flies, how have you been? I sure hope you brought your energy with you today, my boy, because we're all busier than a bee just before the winter!"

In truth, Lewis was exhausted. He had spent most of the day before dragging around the knocked out body of his acquaintance/not-really-friend/annoying-stalker Wilbur. Then he had spent a few more hours setting up as good of a living space in his closet as he could, and then finally staying up half the night with fear that someone other than himself and Goob would hear Wilbur groaning in his sleep. He had been lucky to even have made it to work on time today, as he had only checked his intern schedule sheet a few hours earlier to find to his horror that his first day was that very day.

"Well, well, what shall we start with…" Mrs. Robinson mused, tapping the floor with her foot so rapidly that a dark spot of ware and tare was starting to form on the carpet. "Oh, I know! Let's introduce you to the team, shall we?" She grinned at him as she brought out a walkie talkie, twirling it slightly before suddenly screaming into it, "Everybody to Lab A now!"

Lewis watched open mouth as people, grown adults, suddenly rushed into the room like a group of kids before summoned by their mother, whom they were pretty sure was probably angry. Without any coaxing they all lined up in a sort of relaxed military row, or like prisoners being taken in for a witness pick-out. Lewis noticed that one of them was covered in coffee.

"Thank you," Mrs. Robinson said, pleased as she walked with ease to one end of the line-up, "Now, let's see. Team, this is Lewis Cornelius, that's right isn't it dear? Lewis here is the boy who won the science fair I went out to judge a few days ago, you remember me telling you about him, right?"

Now the scientists were looking at him with a tad more interest, and Lewis felt himself turning red. Everyone had a white lab coat on, and Lewis had never felt more intimidated by a group of adults in his life. These were the types of people he wanted to be, and he suddenly realized as he subconsciously stood up straighter, the kind of people he wanted to impress.

Mrs. Robinson turned to look at him, smiling cheerily as she pointed to the first man in the line-up, "Lewis, this is Duboff. He's our resident genius mathematician," Duboff was a dark-haired man with very serious expression and a pair of sunglasses as dark as night.

Duboff had the stance of someone very important who was just barely tolerating the interruption of the rest of the world, and seemed very well put together, except for a singly cow-lick on the top of his head. The way it glistened, Lewis guessed that Duboff had tried every gel imaginable to smooth the lick down, which if anything had only made it more noticeable. Duboff glared at him when he caught Lewis staring at it, the look so fierce that Lewis actually took a step back.

Mrs. Robinson laughed, "Don't be intimidated dear, Duboff is just a little shy. I'm sure that in time you two will be right as rain."

She moved on to the next body, a woman, a young woman who looked more suited to be the wife of someone very old and very wealthy rather than a scientist to the most successful invention corporation in the world. "This is Cherry, best darn technology buff in the country. Could make your laptop do things not physically possible!...or advisable…in fact, Cherry, don't let Lewis anywhere near your laptop, will you dear?"

"Whatever you say, Doctor R." Cherry said, her voice a deep, throaty sound that for some reason made Lewis feel guilty even listening to. It didn't help when the woman gave him a friendly wink that made his ears burn red, adding in, "Welcome to the club, Lewis."

Mrs. Robinson rolled her eyes, "Cherry, honestly, stop teasing the poor dear. Moving on, moving on…here, we have our chemical experts, Michael Johnson A. and Michael Johnson B."

Lewis raised an eyebrow at the two short men, both giving him identical, friendly grins, "Um, let me guess...twins?"

Mrs. Robinson sighed, "No, actually. Lab accident. We were doing this teeny, tiny little gene-splicing experiment and Michael walked into the wrong room at the wrong time, and, well, one bright light later and there was two of him." She frowned, "or, at least we think it's two of him. It could be just one of him split in half, we're still not entirely sure. All we know is that we haven't been able to fix them or recreate the accident, and neither like to be separated for too long. Crazy, eh? Oh well, at least the world gets another brilliant mind, right?" she giggled as Lewis gapped at the two red-headed men…man…men, both who just shrugged at him.

The next one was a dark skinned man. Lewis was pretty sure he was bald, or at least had a really thin hair cut, but he couldn't tell because he couldn't quite arch his neck back far enough. Also, Lewis didn't want to eyeball the guy. A man with that many muscles was best treated with caution, scientist or not.

"This tall fellow here is Abraham, our engineer and wiring expert. Don't let his size full you, he's as sweet as a kitten…just, don't expect to get more than a sentence out of him a week, he's more of a man of action, ain't that right Ab?" she called up. Ab looked down and nodded. It was like watched a continent shift. The man was huge.

She moved on to the last in the line-up, the youngest of the group, a blond haired man in his early twenties who looked as if he had been surprised one too many times in his life. His frazzled, nervous appearance wasn't helped by the fact that he was drenched in coffee.

"My goodness Jonathon, what on earth did you do to yourself?" Mrs. Robinson laughed, raising an amused eyebrow at the blushing young man, who tried to stutter out a reply before she just shrugged, turning to Lewis, "And this is our lab assistant. We used to have more, but assistants don't typically last long in this sector, they find our experiments a tad…nerve wracking, so they all transferred to other sections of the company. But Jonathon here stuck it through, didn't ya Jonathon."

The man nodded glumly. Lewis got the impression that there was more to the story, as he didn't look like the type of guy that handled crazy experiments well, but Lewis supposed first impressions could be deceiving.

"And…this is the entire team?" Lewis asked, feeling vaguely surprised. There was only seven of them, if you counted Michael as two; eight if you counted Lewis himself. He had assumed that there would be more to it than this.

Mrs. Robinson nodded, "Well, like I said, a lot of people have a hard time with the research we do here. We're very important to the company, and we're where most of the funding goes, but it's hard to find qualified people to work here. They need to be smart, creative, and most importantly, need to be able to handle the unordinary…Lewis," she suddenly said, leaning in real close to him until her face dominated all of his vision, "Can you handle the unordinary?"

Lewis considered all of the events that had happened in the last day and didn't even hesitate. "Yes ma'em!"

"Good, I love the enthusiasm!" Doctor Robinson crowed, "Alright Lewis, let's get you familiar with the lab! Everybody, you can go back to what you were doing, thank you!"

Lewis smiled and nodded as everyone gave him a final look before wondering off, Mrs. Robinson grabbing onto his shoulder in a friendly way as she began the tour. He was enjoying himself so far, but his mind kept drifting back home. Goob had a baseball game today, the one that should have been the day before yesterday, and it was a Saturday, so the orphanage should be hustling and bustling by now. Wilbur had been asleep in the closet when Lewis had left that morning, and he hadn't had the heart to wake him up…but now he wished he had, just so that they could have set up some ground rules. Visions of Wilbur being caught and getting everyone into trouble floored Lewis's imagination and made his stomach squirm.

Oh well, there was nothing Lewis could do about it now. He would simply have to trust that Wilbur was smart enough to not leave the closet, was patient enough to wait for Lewis to get back and tell him when it was safe. That wasn't too much to expect, right?...

Right?

1

Wilbur had to pee.

No, that was too tame a word. Wilbur had to urinate, had to micturite, had to freakin bloody perform some _emiction _or his _bladder_ was going to _explode_.

Also his throat was dry and his arm hurt and Lewis wasn't anywhere and he was bored out of his mind. But most importantly, he had to piss like a racehorse. Now.

Now, Wilbur was by no means stupid. Oh, he could be idiotic during some times, he could admit to himself, but being an idiot didn't mean the same as being stupid. Stupid people did stupid things because they didn't know it was stupid. Idiot people did stupid things they knew were stupid, because they were idiotic enough to believe they could get away with it.

So, knowing that the house was full of kids, and that by now all of them had heard from the grapevine what the mysterious intruder into their house the night before looked like, and that if anyone other than Goob or Lewis saw him he would be in big, big trouble, he snuck out of the closet anyway. There was probably a bath room on the floor he was on, he rationalized, so he wouldn't have to go far. Besides, he would be really careful, and wouldn't let anyone see him. If anyone else would try it, it would be stupid, but he was confident he could make it work.

The idiot.

Getting out of the closet itself was basically risk free. Both Goob and Lewis had had the foresight to close the door behind them when they left and to close the window blinds. Alone in the boys room, Wilbur was tempted to stop and start ruffling through Lewis's stuff, to see if he could find out more about the boy, but nature's calling pushed the thought away. Quickly, but with the common sense to tred lightly, he leaned an ear against the entrance door, listening to see if there was anyone outside. Not hearing anything, he risked cracking the door open slightly to peek out.

Outside, a little ways from the door and, thankfully, with their backs turned to him, were two kids, both only a little older looking then Goob. The reason he hadn't heard them was that they were whispering to each other, each taking suspicious glances around the hallway every now and then, though never looking in Wilbur's direction. Wilbur strained to hear what they were saying, which was slightly easier with the door open.

"Wow, look at its underbelly…I thought it would be slimier." The boy admitted, his female companion looking at something the boy was holding in his hands, her expression ranging from distaste to fascination. Wilbur couldn't see what they were holding, and wasn't really interested. He wondered if whatever they had would keep their attention enough so that he could sneak around the hallway, looking for a restroom.

"I still think we should return it," the girl whispered, "I mean, it's like her pet, right? I don't want to be no per nabber."

"She had tons of them," the boy replied dismissively, "I bet she'll never even notice it's gone. I want to see if it'll do that trick with the hat it did for her."

"I think it would rather bite you." The girl replied, this making Wilbur turn his head. He had been sneaking, rather dramatically, past them, looking around for a door that might look like a restroom. As he had hoped, they weren't paying attention enough to notice his footsteps, so he had managed to get halfway across the hallway, hoping that no one would suddenly run up the stair case.

The idea that whatever they were holding might be an animal peeked his curiosity, but again he still had more important issues, and he continued to look around. Maybe that door…?

"Hey, hey, it's kicking!" the boy suddenly cried, sounding panicky.

The girl jumped away from him, staring wide eyed at his hands, "Ew, don't let it go, hold it, hold it!"

But whatever the boy was holding had gotten away, and despite the fact that they had been closely examining it not a minute earlier, to see it on the floor and hopping around madly gave them a fright, and they both cried out and ran down the stairs to get help. They didn't see Wilbur, who had hid behind the nearest door once the commotion had started, somebody's bedroom, and was now again peeking out to see if the coast was clear.

His eye was caught to his feet, where a frog sat there, looking straight up at him.

"Rribbit." The frog said.

"Hello." Wilbur replied back, raising an eyebrow, "what the heck are you doing here?"

Wilbur didn't know much about frogs, but he wondered if they all had that slightly intelligent, condescending look that this frog was giving him. He had seen pictures, but frogs had always looked kind of stupid and passive in them, and this frog looked like it wanted to thump him across the head if he didn't wise up. Without really thinking about it, Wilbur leaned down and offered the frog his undamaged hand, the frog jumping into the palm.

Wilbur heard multiple footsteps coming up the staircase and quickly closed the door again. Those kids had probably gotten some bigger kids, and all of them had come back up to find the frog. There was a good chance that when they couldn't find it, they would start checking the rooms to see if it had slipped in. Wilbur needed to hide, but this room didn't have a walk in closet, only a wood slide.

Hearing voices, Wilbur realized it would have to do. Squeezing in, he closed the sliding door behind him and peeked out through the blinds, hoping no one would check this room, and if they did, wouldn't bother with the closet. He glared at the frog, trying to mentally threaten him from making any noise. The frog was unimpressed.

Wilbur's arm was starting to really throb, and he wished Lewis hadn't taken his painkillers with him. The boy had been afraid that Wilbur would take more than the recommended dose if left unintended, which was so lame. Wilbur knew how to take care of himself! Feeling annoyed, he turned to the frog and said, "I can totally handle myself."

The frog pissed in his hand. Jerk.

After wiping off his palm on the carpet, Wilbur decided it was time to chance finding that restroom again. He got up and opened the sliding door, heading towards the entrance door. Wilbur looked behind him when the frog croaked. The thing was following him.

"What, you think I'm taking you with me?" Wilbur laughed, though he stopped when the frog continued to stare at him. The staring continued until the teenager got more and more uncomfortable, finally sighing, "Well…I guess since you're kind of on the run too, I suppose I should help you out as a fellow outlaw. I'll try and get you outside or something. But, we're stopping by the restroom first, and once we're outside you're on your own, got it?"

The frog seemed satisfied with this and waited patiently as Wilbur bent down to pick him up. Wilbur was currently wearing some of Lewis's clothes, loose fitting summer clothes that Lewis confessed to only ever wearing to the beach. They were a little small on Wilbur, making them not so loose, but the pants at least had big pockets, and Wilbur carefully placed the frog in one of them, the frog sitting comfortably inside the cool fabric. Animal secured, Wilbur went back to the entrance door to see if the cost was clear again.

Whoever's footsteps those had been, the people were gone now, leaving the hallway bare and safe to travel. Still, Wilbur wasn't going to be caught unawares, so he tip toed out, crouching low as he peered around suspiciously.

After checking every door, all of them bedrooms except for one supply closet, and still there was no bathroom to speak of. Wilbur was going to burst if he didn't get to a bathroom soon…

Suddenly he remembered the fire escape, and his head turned to the window that led to the fire escape. It would help him get the frog outside, but it wouldn't lead to a bathroom…

…Well, at least not to what respectable people would call a bathroom…

2

Lewis tried not to pee his pants. This was hard, because typically when one looks into the mouth of a live T-Rex, wetting their drawers is the first instinct.

"We call him Tiny," Mrs. Robinson cooed, patting the dinosaur on one of its toes, which came up to her head. The fact that its tongue rolled out of its mouth like a big happy puppy at the contact did not make Lewis want to pee his pants any less. For some strange reason, he really wished he had a taser like the kind Mildred kept on her. A bazooka would probably have been more appropriate thing to wish for, for the tyranasouras rex would only notice a taser as a human would a mosquito, but Lewis still wanted one because the mind worked funny like that sometimes.

"How…how…I didn't even know technology like this was possible yet…" Lewis breathed, eyes wide as saucer-pans as he stared up at the man eating, fierce looking giant, "A real dinosaur…how is that even possible?"

"Technically, it's not." Duboff said, still wearing his sunglasses even though it was dim in the room to accommodate the T-Rex, which had been sleeping. "Tiny is a mutt, both literally and as far as cloning goes. We were able to match enough dinosaur DNA to get a realistic looking Rex, but a good chunk of it, such as its mind and its basic instincts, a dog. Golden Retriever to be exact. With the technology we have now, it would be impossible to create a pure dinosaur, without the aid of another animals DNA."

Lewis nodded, feeling a little more at ease now that he knew that it wasn't _all_ man-eating, superkilling beast. "And, this is your project Mr. Duboff? But I thought you were a mathematician, what does that have to do with cloning?"

Duboff actually seemed offended, his chest swelling with indignation as he said sternly, "All of life is an equation. To alter it, all one must know how to do is carry the four."

Lewis, who enjoyed a good equation himself now and then, wasn't sure how to react to a true enthusiast. A simple "Uh huh" would have to suffice.

"All right Lewis," Mrs. Robinson cut in, patting the boy on his shoulder, "Because it's your first day, I thought I'd start you on something easy. You're just going to be doing some data collecting. Now, Tiny has only been with us for a few months now, and we're still trying to make sure everything's working the way it should be. Such as his digestive system!" out of nowhere, she produced out a hand shovel and a sheet of paper, both which Lewis accepted reluctantly.

"Umm, Mrs. Robinson…" Lewis said, staring at the shovel with a sinking feeling in his stomach, "…exactly how am I going to check his digestive system is working okay?"

Tiny suddenly made a soft sighing/grunting noise, and from behind his holding pen Lewis heard a loud SPLAT noise.

Mrs. Robinson grinned one of her big, manic grins. "You'll have plenty of data to work with dear."

3

Had Wilbur managed to have gotten to the bottom of the staircase, he would have done something he wouldn't have been proud of. Unfortunately, the great humor that could have been derived from this was lost, as Wilbur found that once he had gotten down the stairs, the ladder proved impossible to navigate with his busted arm.

However, this proved to be fortunate for him, for on the way back up he came across another empty floor of the building, and wide open in the hallway was, in its brilliant chromosome beauty, was a bathroom.

What was done in the bathroom will not be discussed, but he left feeling immensely better.

"Okay," Wilbur muttered, still being careful not to make too much noise as he went back out onto the fire escape, looking down at his pant pocket, "now, what to do about you, Mr. Frog?"

"Ribbit," the frog answered, clearly perfectly okay to leave the hard thinking to Wilbur.

While Wilbur briefly considered just dropping the frog on the ground from the fire escape, a sound caught his ear. It was from inside, the window not fully closed, and Wilbur quickly ducked under the window frame so that he wouldn't be seen.

"He's here, he has to be here!" the girl, her voice high pitched between anger and hysteria, "This was the last place I saw him!"

"Franny," a familiar voice said, what was his name, Goob? "Don't worry, we'll find him. I'm sure he just wondered off-"

"No! Frankie knows better than that. Frankie? Frankie!?" the girl, Franny, cried rushing around the floor.

Outside, the frog in Wilbur's pocket was suddenly squirming furiously, croaking relentlessly, "Shut up," Wilbur hissed, trying to muffle the sound with his hands, "If Goob finds me out here, he'll tell Lewis, and I'll be in trouble! Shut up!"

"Frankie?" Franny said, hearing the croaking despite Wilbur's best efforts, "Frankie!"

Just as 'Frankie' had finally managed to struggle his way out of Wilbur's pocket and jumped onto his chest, the window above slid open violently, and Goob and Franny's faces leaned over the railing, now face to face with a happily croaking Frankie and a rather sheepish Wilbur.

Franny scooped Frankie up with a squeal as Goob leaned on the frame with a bemused, half-lidded look, "You couldn't have waited till me or Lewis got back? Really?"

Wilbur grinned and did a lop-sided shrug with his good shoulder, "When ya got to go…"

4

"It's time to go Mrs. Robinson." Lewis said, feeling vaguely disappointed as he did. Oh, sure, he had spent the better part of the day sorting through dinosaur dropping, then cleaning up the dinosaur dropping, and then cleaning the dropping off of himself…but, still, he had strangely had a lot of fun doing it, and he had proven that Tiny's digestive track was A-Okay, which he was somewhat proud of and which everyone had congratulated him on before sending him to the shower.

All in all, an awesome first day.

Now clean, Mrs. Robinson didn't hesitate to squeal and bring him into a constricting, bone crushing hug as she gaily shouted, "Oh Lewis, you were wonderful today! You followed the task to the letter, and were so intelligent and ready to work! Plus, you are just so darn cute! You have just completely won me over, my dear!"

Lewis laughed, though his cheeks were burning, "Yeah well…wish half of my interviews with parents had gone that well." He joked, immediately regretting it as he saw a flash of uncertain sympathy jolt across Mrs. Robinsons face. Growing up in an orphanage, one gets so used to certain things that it's sometimes hard to remember how talk of it effects others. "A-anyway, I had a great time. This place is awesome! So, I'll be back the same time tomorrow?"

Mrs. Robinson brightened, though some of that sorrow still tinged her voice as she tried to say chirpily, "Every Saturday and Sunday, from ten in the morning to three in the afternoon. You'll get more responsibility the longer you work here Lewis, but for now that's good enough. You really were great. Did you say goodbye to everyone already?"

Lewis grinned. Mrs. Robinson had been extremely insistent when explaining to him that here it was considered polite to say goodbye to everyone before leaving. In many ways, one might view Mrs. Robinson as a very stern and inflexible boss…but, it was only in the same way a concerned mother might be strict in her household. Lewis wondered if Mrs. Robinson had any kids, and found himself strangely sad at the thought.

"Yes…well, except for John," Lewis admitted, speaking of the sections lone Janitor, who Lewis had met earlier in the day, "I couldn't find him."

"Oh, he should be down in the basement checking on the heating. Just nip down there real quick to say goodbye, though…." Mrs. Robinson paused, biting her lip before saying, "while you're down there, do try not to…wander."

So that was how Lewis had found himself heading down the long basement stairs. The lights were less taken care of the farther down he went, fluorescents beginning to flicker and dim, and by the time Lewis reached to the bottom with the door labeled Basement, he was starting to get a terrible headache.

Shaking it off, he opened up the basement door, the inside very dark save for the few lights left on for a last attempt at visibility. Lewis wasn't surprised by this, knowing that a building like this that took up so much energy, little thing like dimming the lights of unnecessary rooms was a desperate attempt to save at least some energy.

"John?" Lewis called out, carefully stepping inside, "Mr. Benson? Are you in here?"

When he didn't get any answer he dared to go in further, leaving the door open behind him for some extra light. As his eyes adjusted, he recognized that the basement was more of a storage center then anything. Expensive but dusty equipment was everywhere, though nothing he recognized as a heating system, and no John the Janitor in sight.

As he walked around a large machine that might have been the original computer, a bright light drew his attention. Over in the corner of the room was a large door, metallic, not entirely airtight as at the bottom a beam of light from the room inside steadily littered the floor. The door said in big blue letters Restricted Area: Official Personnel Only.

'Well, I'm personnel now,' Lewis thought proudly, viewing the key-pad beside the door. There was already a code digitally typed into the panel, 32452, like someone had been meaning to go inside and had been distracted and forgotten about it.

'Maybe John's in here.' Lewis finally thought, curiosity about what's behind the door itching his fingers as he went to push the enter button on the panel. It made a small beeping sound, and Lewis could hear the door lock shift. Hesitating only a moment, Lewis kept his resolve and pushed the door open.

He was momentarily blinded by the extremely bright florescent light, but as his eyes once again adjusted he was startled by how _cold_ he suddenly was. This room was kept refrigerated, and he could hear the soft hum of a machine running.

As he finally peered through the light, he saw it was a small white room, and at the end of the room was a large green tube full of liquid. Inside the tube was-

The door slammed shut in Lewis's face.

Lewis gasped and jumped, his eyes swiveling up to see John looking down at him with a disapproving frown.

"What ya be doing, little Lewis lad?" John asked in his heavy Irish accent, the funny, older man Lewis had met before now suddenly looking younger and far more fierce.

"I-I-I was looking for you," Lewis breathed, fighting the urge to run, "W-w-wanted to say b-b-bye before I left."

"Oh, well…goodbye then, lad. Mighty appreciate the thought, though," John narrowed his eyes at him, "Next, best be asking permission before ya go off opening doors you ain't allowed into, boy. Now…scat!"

Lewis bolted, running up and out of the basement and into the cool of the day. He was stunned to see it was still a young and beautiful day outside, only the middle of the afternoon, but he didn't have long to think about it as he tried to catch his breath. He would no better than to cross John next time, and could only hope the old janitor wouldn't go and tell to Mrs. Robinson on him. For a great day, that could have ended better.

'Oh well,' Lewis mused, 'Now I know better…though, what was that room holding?'

Had Lewis not known better, not known that InventCo was known for its high ethics in both business and research, he could have sworn that, trapped inside, he had seen an unconscious woman.

5

_The man was watching, because these days he often found that there was little else to do._

_The boy, not _his_ boy but _a _boy, had gone to _that_ place. __**That **__place! He had known the boy would, that was the whole point, the whole reason that such a tiny and insignificant speck of a child even made a blip on the radar that was the man's life._

_That damn, wretched place!_

_But it would be okay, soon all would be well. Soon she would be whole, no longer trapped in a form beneath her, and when she was…oh, what a glorious day. The world will finally understand what true perfection is, both in wisdom and beauty. She would change everything, and all will be grand, and he will stand beside her, protecting her, loving her, helping in her cause._

_So long as the children played their role._

_He continued to sneak off after the little blonde child, but before he left, he gave one last look to the wicked building, and honking up as much ammo as he could, spat at it._

-tbc-


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Authors Note:

_I made you all wait an extra long time, so you all get an extra long chapter._

_Also, a notice! I'm looking for a new Beta for this fic, as my old one has disappeared. All being my Beta requires is a willingness to read and point out errors and inconsistencies, such as spelling or mixed-up time frames. If you're interested, send me a private message, and we'll give each other a try :)_

0

"I am so bored."

Lewis rolled his eyes as Wilbur plopped himself onto the floor next to him, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the bedroom door was locked before returning to his work. "Oh please, you are so not allowed to say that. You spent the whole day crawling around the orphanage, causing all sorts of trouble; ya know some of the kids have started a rumor that there's a ghost in the house? Oh, and mind your sling, you don't want to hurt yourself."

Wilbur scowled, looking down at his right arm with thinly veiled disgust, "It's fine, honest! It doesn't even hurt."

Lewis shook his head, "No, it _does_ hurt, we've just put enough drugs in your system to keep you from whining about it." At this Lewis frowned. He had checked those rations of pills, and thankfully they would last a while longer, maybe two weeks…but not forever. He had no idea how long it would take for Wilbur's arm to completely heal, but hopefully the painful part would pass soon, because there was no way they could steal anymore.

Only four days had passed by since Wilbur had rather forcefully put himself into Lewis's life, first by practically stalking him, and then by getting himself so injured that Lewis couldn't in good mentality leave him be, but it had felt longer. Wilbur had been living in Lewis's and Goob's closet for two days now, sleeping mostly due to the drugs, and but already during his waking hours he was becoming more hyper, despite his injuries. Just that day was a perfect example, where while he and Goob had gone out Wilbur had scoured the building in search of a bathroom, and had caused all sorts of trouble in doing so. Lewis had been afraid the teen might have alerted Mildred to the stowaway's presence, but thankfully she seemed to remain clueless.

Lewis was no longer sure what would happen if Mildred did discover Wilbur, as enough time had passed since the police call-in to keep her from freaking out the first minute she knew, but Lewis couldn't convince himself that it would still end well. In his mind eye, Lewis still saw Saint Anne's Hospital as a still very real possible outcome in their lives.

Saint Anne's Hospital for the Mentally Unstable, a mental hospital that had an entire ward dedicated to teenagers, either homeless or enlisted by their parents. The hospital was meant for the dangerously insane, which contributed to its suffocating restrictions and often poor condition, but while many of their juvenile charges would not be eligible to be there as adults, neither crazy enough nor dangerous enough, the fact that they were the only mental hospital in the city meant juveniles still had to be sent there if found mentally odd until they were eighteen, where most of them would then be released, no longer unstable enough for the hospitals standards, but forever changed by their years locked up.

Lewis had been doing a lot of research on the place, using precious study hours at the library, and the more he found out the more determined he was to keep Wilbur from being sent there.

Which was odd, because Lewis couldn't really stand Wilbur.

The two boys were exact opposites, both in goals and personalities; Wilbur always wanted to have fun, could barely sit still after only being awake for half an hour, while Lewis was desperately trying to catch up on his studies, which both his time with Wilbur and his time as an intern had been taking away from. For the first time in years, Lewis had a ninety-eight percent in a class, unacceptable for a 4.0 student.

Ah, speaking of his internship, Lewis couldn't be more thrilled with it, though he only gone once so far. After dealing with a dinosaurs digestive track, Mrs. Robinson had given him a break the second half of the day and had him working with Cherry, helping her work out simulations for new types of weapons.

Honestly, weapons weren't Lewis's thing; he didn't like the idea that anything he helped create might be used to harm someone else. However, it was something that the company did, and thankfully weapons were only one of the hundreds of projects the company worked on from a day to day basis. Lewis liked to daydream sometimes that his future inventions would make life so easy that conflict would become both undesirable and unnecessary…but those were children's daydreams, and so he had sucked it up and helped Cherry with the designs.

When he had told Wilbur what he had done that day, Wilbur had merely frowned and said, "I don't remember any designs for weapons," but when he had been pressed to explain what he meant he had avoided the subject by complaining about the pain in his shoulder and asking for his meds.

An hour later, while Wilbur whined about being bored and Lewis busied himself designing future projects, Lewis was still thinking about the comment. Wilbur hadn't been with them long at all, and Lewis had really only had that day to honestly observe the guest, and already he had noticed many comments that hadn't made sense, which Wilbur skillfully dodged around fully explaining. He would see a commercial for a brand new movie and wrinkle his nose before saying "The re-make sucked," or he'd start to laugh whenever he heard about the feud between the republicans and the democrats , his only hint to the joke being a playful "You'll see."

And then, once that day, his reaction to something Lewis and the others had done had been very strange. Lewis and Franny and Goob had been talking and laughing about Franny's performance from the day before, and then Franny had confessed that, though there was no scientific proof, she had a theory frogs were more musically inclined than humans were. She had gotten mad when Goob had laughed at this, and then grown suspicious of Lewis, sure he believed it was ridiculous as well. When Lewis had quickly said that he thought she was right, Wilbur had watched Franny's flushed face and grown very quiet, a small puzzled frown on his face as his eyes grew glassy and glazed, as if he were in a trace. He had then hid himself in the closet for an hour, just staring at the wall, silent.

Lewis wondered what the hyper, spazzy teen had been thinking about, alone in his closet, with such a serious expression on his face. Lewis glanced at Wilbur in the present, the same thought coming to him. What did Wilbur, who truly believed he was from the future, think about?

It was when Wilbur looked up that Lewis realized he had been staring at him too long, Wilbur confirming this when he asked, "What, I have something on my face?"

Lewis grinned, pointing at his own nose, "Yeah, something really gross right…oh, wait, that _is_ your face. My bad."

Wilbur rolled his eyes, "Hardey, har har, very funny. Seriously, what's up? You were staring right at me and had this look on your face like you were constipated."

Lewis didn't answer for a minute, giving Wilbur a thoughtful look before suddenly saying, "What's the future like?"

Wilbur stopped what he was doing, which was playing with a small tennis ball, and gave Lewis a stunned expression before suddenly saying, "You believe me? I can't believe it! When did you realize I was--"

"Woah, slow down there," Lewis frowned, holding up his hands against the excited assault of words, "I meant…dang, I shouldn't have said it like that. Wilbur, you're _not_ from the future. I'm not sure where you're from…but, what I meant was, what do you think the future is like? How do you imagine it?

Wilbur looked thoroughly disheartened by this correction, and his face twisting in annoyance as he pouted, "I don't imagine it…" The silence lasted so long that Lewis assumed Wilbur was ignoring him before the teen suddenly began, "It's like a room full of bubbles."

"What?" Lewis said, completely bewildered.

"Bubbles," Wilbur repeated, putting his fingers together in a circle to visualize, "At least in the city I live in, it's probably different in other places, though I don't travel a lot. When buildings are made, there are bubbles, and people travel around in bubbles, and there are no angles, or sharp edges. Roads turn like round bubbles and the edges of buildings were round and everything is colorful and vibrant and…bubbly." He said all of this in a flush of emotion, sporting a big grin as he explained the places, but the grin slowly fading away as he continued more sadly, "It's not like here. People are…happier, in the future. There isn't war or famine or crime. People aren't afraid to get to know each other, everyone's always waving and smiling and ready with a warm hello and an ice-cream cone on the house. Families stay together, and mothers don't die and fathers don't build wicked stepmothers…I miss it." he said the last part in a whisper, beginning to get that look on his face that Lewis recognized as the 'glazed look'.

Desperate to keep Wilbur from drawing into himself, Lewis interrupted his musings by saying, "Wow, it sounds great. Wish I could see it."

Lewis jumped when Wilbur suddenly burst out laughing, "What?" Lewis asked as Wilbur's laughter subsided into giggles.

"N-nothing, heh, it's just…you wish you could _see_ it? Oh man, if only you knew…" Wilbur laughed, mostly to himself.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, "'Knew'? 'Knew' what?"

"Oh…!" Wilbur shouted, looking uneasy, as if he had said too much, "Um…well, you know…if only you knew the guy…who had invented it all, is all."

Lewis blinked, "All? As in, what, all of the city? One guy built the whole city?"

Wilbur shook his head, his chest actually seeming to puff out a little, "City? Please, I mean _all_, like, as in _everything_ in the future. This one guy is responsible for nearly every advancement of my time in every field there is, from architecture to archeology. He's an amazing inventor, and is pretty much the sole reason people can live so comfortably now. He's had so much influence; some people call him the 'Father of the Future'."

Lewis, so engrossed by Wilbur's story, actually found himself impressed with this fictional man of Wilbur's mind, "Wow…he built everything? Who is this guy?"

Wilbur smiled smugly, "His name is Cornelius Robinson…" and then, somewhat hesitantly he continued, "He's my dad."

At that moment, the illusion was broken for Lewis. The idea that Wilbur, whom even a year older then Lewis the boy had seen the teenager look at his seventh grade homework like it was in another language, could be the son of such an amazingly brilliant man, was way too unrealistic. Feeling ridiculous for being as absorbed into the story as he had been, but wanting to humor the teen who seemed to be in a better mood then he had been all day, grinned and said, "Really? Your dad sounds like an amazing guy. You know, Cornelius is one of my favorite names, and not all that well known either. Where'd you hear it?"

It had been a slip of the tongue from Lewis, and he realized the folly in the question as Wilbur's face suddenly fell as he replied, "It's…I just told you, it's my dad's name."

Lewis, feeling uncomfortable, looked back towards his sketches, "Right, sorry, misheard you." Lewis lied, feeling like an ass. Telling Wilbur that he wasn't from the future was easy, because it was such a strange concept; but trying to convince the guy that he had imagined up his family felt kind of borderline cruel. And, besides, maybe his dad's name really _was _Cornelius. Jeez, Wilbur had been with Lewis for four days now, and Lewis realized he had almost forgotten that out there, somewhere, there was probably someone who was desperate to know where Wilbur was. After all, when Lewis had first met him, it was obvious that he wasn't a street kid; his clothes were clean, as was the teen himself, and though he was somewhat skinny, that could easily be explained by an active body rather then malnourishment. He was clearly being taken care of…

Though…and at this, Lewis was only speculating, because the fall into the hole and it's occurring injuries make it impossible for the twelve year old to tell…but he had seen Wilbur without his shirt on, when the teen had taken off his shirt to make his injured arm more comfortable, and some of those cuts and bruises looked older than the others…

Lewis told himself he was being overly paranoid, and was too uncomfortable to flat out ask Wilbur about them; that's even assuming that if he did Wilbur would give him a straight answer. He would probably end up saying that time traveling was bumpy or something, which would leave Lewis knowing as much as he started out with. But thinking about it reminded Lewis that, this couldn't go on forever.

Sure, Wilbur hiding around in his and Goob's room was working for right now, but it sure as heck wasn't a permanent solution, nor did he doubt that any of the three boys involved wanted it to be. He had briefly considered introducing Wilbur to Mildred as an orphan in need of a place to stay, but there was paperwork to deal with there, and because of Wilbur's age and obvious good condition, Mildred would have to turn him in as a runaway, which meant reporting to the police, and if Wilbur talked to the police and ended up telling them he was from the future…

St. Anne's Mental Facility flashed through Lewis's mind eye, and he shivered. He would not be responsible for Wilbur being locked up in a loony farm for five years, he had already decided that. But, other than sending Wilbur on his way, what other outcome was there?

Wilbur's hurt eyes suddenly turned annoyed before brightening as he rolled his eyes, leaning back into the wall as once again he used his good arm to throw and catch the tennis ball, "Oh well, its okay you don't believe me. I'll show you, either the easy way or the hard way…well, considering what you think is easier; finding my time machine, or waiting around thirty-six years."

Wilbur laughed loudly at his own joke, and Lewis obligingly laughed along, but thought with a cold sort of terror to himself, '_Will you still believe it, in this bubble world of yours, if in thirty-six years it doesn't come around? Would you still believe it, Wilbur?'_

1

That night, Wilbur sat in his closet. Though he had only been in it for a few days, the area was right in being called 'his', as he had already put his mark onto it. The floor was one giant bedspread of multiple covers and comforters, with three unused pillows that the boys had scavenged up for his disposal. Due to long hours by himself, Wilbur had taken to the pencil and paper, spending his idle hours creating decorations and pictured to hang inside the closet to make it feel homier, Goob and Lewis's clothes pushed to the side or removed completely to their drawers, so as to make more room for him. The closet was small, especially considering his old room in the future, and not always entirely comfortable; but, despite this, Wilbur was already growing a very strong affection, even attachment, towards it, and despite his active nature was perfectly content to spend multiple hours alone in its confines.

Wilbur had thought he was falling asleep, after a long day of walking around the orphanage, meeting 'Frank' the frog, and then getting subsequently lectured by an irate Lewis, but instead he was lying on his stomach amongst the blankets, playing with his model time machine. He smiled at the memory of Lewis's stern scolding, telling Wilbur how careful he had to be and bla, bla, bla. Though, Wilbur could concede to himself, they had had a rough beginning, and Lewis still seemed to find Wilbur more of a burden then anything…Wilbur was still glad he had gone to him for help. He had been terrified, when he had looked up into the sky and saw the time machine flying off, stolen because Wilbur hadn't taken the proper measures to secure it. His family loved him, would never hurt him…but if they had found out, they would have killed him. A slow, painful death. That time machine meant _everything_ to Dad…and Dad meant everything to everybody else. His father was the entire reason their perfect, happy world existed! His father could never know what Wilbur had done…

He thought about Lewis and laughed. Well, okay, maybe he had already failed in keeping it hidden from his father; but, his Dad didn't even believe him, so that was fine, he guessed.

Then he frowned. Lewis didn't believe him, and though it kept Wilbur out of trouble, Lewis himself was still in trouble. He knew that the bowler hat guy was after Lewis for some reason, that the science fair project had had something to do with it. Lewis had told Wilbur that after the fair, someone had broken in and smashed his project, had even asked Wilbur if he was the one who had done it. Man, had _that _been a conversation. Wilbur knew it was the bowler hat guy who had done it, but like last time, Lewis didn't believe him because, one, he still didn't believe the guy existed, and two, Wilbur couldn't give an explanation as to why the bowler hat guy would do it.

Wilbur didn't know why the bowler hat guy had done it either. Why go through the trouble of stealing a time machine, going into the past, and breaking into a gymnasium, just to break to a machine that could easily be fixed by its creator. What was the point? Did the bowler hat guy do it, just to show Wilbur he could?

"Sounds to me," Tatula said, her accent as heavy as honey on the lips, "like a threat, baby."

"Ah!" Wilbur cried, whirling around the closet, a strong sense of dejavu overtaking him as, like Carl only two days or so ago, the space proved empty of any fashion design family members. Why did this keep happening?

Wilbur felt something under his palm and looked down at his toy time machine model, having completely forgotten it was there. He picked it up with careful affection, looking at it earnestly for damage. He was very proud of this model, as it was one of the first things he had ever sculpted by himself, when he was younger, wanting to impress his father it. He had spent so much time and energy on it, that it hadn't really mattered that it came out kind of a mess, he still loved it. No, it didn't matter that when he had showed his father his hard-earned creation, his father had called it a…his father had called it a…

Wilbur's brows furrowed at the memory; his dad hadn't called it a waste of material, had he? Cornelius would never say anything like that…so, why did he remember it like that? And for that matter, shouldn't this model be in the future, being displayed on his desk? He hadn't taken it with him…

"Wilbur!"

Wilbur looked up at the closed closet door, stunned before whispering to himself, "…Mom?"

"Wilbur, where are you?" his mother called from behind the door, sounding distressed and worried.

"M-mom!? Mom, I'm in here!" Wilbur cried, reaching out towards the door, which suddenly seemed far away. Had his parents discovered he was missing, had they found a way to come and get him? His hand reached the doorknob, just as he heard the person outside reach the doorknob on the other side of the door, "Mom, is that you?"

The doorknob began to turn, and as it did a deep, menacing laughter emitted from the other side, "Knock, knock, boy."

Wilbur's heart stopped. He knew that voice. "Bowler hat guy!?"

Again, that ridiculous "Muwahahaha," laughter that would have made Wilbur laugh if heard on t.v. and now sent a cold shiver down his spine in real life. Realizing that the closet door was opening, he grasped the knob with both hands, trying to pull it shut again. The bowler hat guy just chuckled to himself before flinging the door open with ease, Wilbur an all. Blinded by the sudden light of the room outside, Wilbur crawled back into the closet and then into the back door, gazing at the man's silhouetted figure against the light. Remembering the injuries sustained to him from their last meeting, Wilbur's left hand subconsciously grasped his right shoulder, which was in so much pain these days. It didn't occur to him to wonder why it didn't hurt now, or where his sling was.

Gathering his courage, he cried out in anger to the man, "What? What do you want from me? Why won't you leave me alone?!"

His eyes were drawn towards the man's bowler hat, unsurprised when the hat began to glow a terrible red and long, metal spider legs grew out of it. His heart pounded harder and harder as the grotesque little piece of clothing crawled down the man and over to him. Though he hated the man, seeing them separated made Wilbur realize that he actually feared the hat more, and the closer the thing got the more helpless Wilbur felt until he felt practically blinded by the panic as he groaned, "Please leave me alone. Carl, Lewis, somebody help, please…"

"Carl?" the man said, stepping into the darkness of the closet, crushing the time machine model under his feet without even acknowledgment, "There is no 'Carl', you idiot. There is no superhero pizza man or meatball shooting uncle coming to save you. There is only you," he pointed to Wilbur, "Me," he pointed to himself, "and..." He said finally, pointing to the bowler hat, which now crouched into a position Wilbur knew so well, "…her."

It attacked.

Outside the closet Lewis was gathering the material for his memory scanner when he looked up, hearing little noises from the closet like kicking. He considered peeking in to check on him, but knew that Wilbur must simply be dreaming of something or another. He had learned in the last few nights that Wilbur was a very active sleeper, and that it was probably best to just let him continue.

Besides, he had a memory scanner to fix.

2

Franny told her parents she was going to a friend's house. Just that, a 'friends' house. That meant she wasn't lying, because they _were_ her friends, and the place they lived in could just as easily be called a house as her own; however, she knew that, while she wasn't lying, she also wasn't really telling the truth, because she hadn't happened to mention that those 'friends' were 'those dangerous orphan boys' from 'that unclean orphan house'.

Her parents weren't prejudiced, she was sure of it…but, she was holding off telling them about her new friends, just in case they got…concerned.

Goob, like usual, was the one to greet her at the door. Franny wasn't sure how this always came to be, after all, if not Lewis there were tons of kids that could have been walking by the door when it rung; but, somehow it was always Goob that answered it, looking cool and relaxed as he gave a casual "Hey Franny," before letting her in. Once, Franny had considered the idea that Goob, after she called to make sure it was okay to come over, might actually wait by the door just so that he could be the one to greet her…but she had eventually laughed off the idea; Goob seemed to tolerate her, at best, and the idea that he could be waiting behind that big wooden door like an eager puppy was too ridiculous to consider.

"So, where's Lewis?" Franny asked, "He upstairs with…" her voice lowered as she smiled mischievously "ya know."

Though she had thought it was insane before, hiding a human being in a closet, Franny had really warmed up to the idea of having such a big secret, and loved to flaunt it any chance she got. Goob personally thought that if Wilbur was ever in danger of being exposed, it was from Franny's constant hints to people like Mildred and the other kids, just so that she could giggle at their obliviousness. She had been coming over a lot lately, enjoying the attention of being a minor celebrity around the orphanage, and also to 'keep an eye on you guys so you don't accidently kill…you-know-who." She would whisper before giggling madly. A kid nearby had overheard them, but thankfully had thought she was talking about the Harry Potter series.

Goob shook his head, looking around quickly to see they were alone, "Nah, Wil's asleep, so Lewis is in the T.V. Room working on his memory scanner, much to everyone's annoyance. He said he needed the lighting or something like that." Goob rolled his eyes, the tiny boy leading his friend down the hallway, "Whatever. I just know that when the kids want to watch T.V. again, they'll tell _me _to make him leave. I swear, just because we're roommates everybody thinks I'm, like, his keeper or something. Fanny's here, Lewis." Goob announced as they walked into the T.V. room, the television off and all of the windows open.

Lewis looked up from the screw he was twisting in, a grin splitting his face, "Hey guys! Look, it's done! I think I've got it working this time!" he beamed, stepping back from his machine, which did look the same as the last time Goob had seen it in working order.

"That's great Lewis," Franny congratulated, stepping over to take a closer look at the machine, "Have you tested it yet?"

The excitement seemed to fall from his face, "Um…no. I…I guess I should do it now." Lewis admitted, grabbing the headsets nervously and placing them on. Ooh, comfy. "Let's see…Mildred said I couldn't have been over seven days old…and I guess that's right, because the date I put in last time showed me the day my mother gave me up…so, I'll set the day before that date," he did so, "and I'll be looking through my memories of my sixth day alive." He went to turn it on, before hesitating and looking at Goob and Franny. It wasn't like he didn't want them around, but… "Would you guys mind giving me some privacy? And shutting the door behind you?"

The other two understood and both wished him luck before closing the door. Alone, Lewis turned back towards the scanner. He had been exaggerating slightly that it was completely finished, but the last touch ups would take only a few minutes or so. Then…then…

Lewis got to work.

4

"Do you want to hang out in my room?" Goob asked after a moment as the two considered what they ought to do with themselves now.

Franny shrugged, "Sure." She agreed without much enthusiasm. As they walked up the stairs she asked, "I'll play a game of Go Fish with you if you have any cards."

Goob considered this, "Kay. I think me and Lewis have a deck lying somewhere around up there, so you'll just have to give me a couple of minutes to look for it. I'll bet Wilbur will play too, if he's awake. Or we could round up some of the other kids…"

Again Franny shrugged, "Either way, I'm good. I don't mind playing with just you, Goob…what's wrong?" Franny asked with concern, as Goob started coughing, the slightly smaller boy pushing his cap down over his face, "You're face is red! Are you choking?!"

"Back off," Goob choked out, walking faster now, as if trying to stay a step ahead of the girl so she couldn't get a good look at him, "I'm fine…just went down the wrong tube is all," he finally mumbled. They had made it up to their floor, and were heading towards Goob's room when he heard it.

"Is something wrong?" Franny asked, seeing the suddenly solemn look on Goob's face as he sped up toward his and Lewis's room.

In answer, Goob opened his door, where Franny could now hear what Goob had; moaning. They entered the room to see Wilbur on the bottom bunk, Goob's bed, with a towel pressed into his face, groaning with chocked tears and pain.

Goob was the first of the two to step forward, "Wilbur…?" Goob asked cautiously, his eyes drawn to Wilbur's fingertips. Was that blood on them…? Franny gasped as she spotted it as well, Goob daring to take another step closer to the teen, "Wilbur…what did you do?"

"I didn't mean too." Wilbur hiccupped behind the muffler of the towel, "It was…I was having a dream and…it was an accident! Don't tell Lewis, he'll think…he's gonna think…" Wilbur groaned, shaking his head mournfully, the towel pressed firmly on his face. There was a trail of blood going down his neck.

Goob was finally close enough to Wilbur to touch him but hesitated to do so, "…Wilbur?...What…" finally, reluctantly, Goob touched Wilbur's hands, and gently pulled the towel away. He immediately wished he hadn't. Behind him, Franny fainted.

Wilbur looked up at him, his face bloody and horrifying from the multiple scratches where Wilbur had used clawed into his own skin, his eyes desperate as he repeated, "It was an accident. Don't tell Lewis, he'll think I'm crazy."

5

Lewis stared in horror at Wilbur's mangled face, but swallowed it as he looked down at the orphanage's first aid kit. He looked back up at Wilbur, who was staring at the floor, ashamed. "You know, this is the third time you've managed to keep me from using my own invention. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was your intention all along. Don't speak." Lewis ordered as he saw Wilbur open his mouth to defend himself.

The scratches had stopped bleeding as heavily after constant pressure against them, but they were still awful to look at. They were as wide as fingernails, and had gone in deep; Lewis wondered if they would leave scars. Undoubtedly they would, Lewis knew, if the cuts weren't handled properly. Lewis wasn't sure if his own meager band-aids would do the trick.

Lewis felt numb. This was a completely new kind of crazy, something far darker then Wilbur's previous delusions; the teenager was hurting himself now. This was true, regardless whether or not it had been an accident as the older boy kept repeating. Intentional or not, these wounds were self inflicted, in a very violent way. Lewis did not know how to handle this.

Behind him, Goob and Franny sat in silence, probably thinking similar thoughts. Before, keeping Wilbur in the closet had just been plain stupid, a short term solution for a long term problem; now, it had suddenly become dangerous. Wilbur had hurt himself in his sleep, his fingers digging into his own face completely against his own will; what else would Wilbur do against his will? It had suddenly occurred to the three to wonder if Wilbur could be trusted when he said he hadn't been the one to break into the gymnasium, and to wonder how it was Wilbur had fallen into that hole in the construction site in the first place. He had claimed that both acts had been by the hand of the bowler hat guy…

…but then, hadn't they believed the bowler hat guy was only in Wilbur's head to begin with? It had simply just never occurred to them to think about what this meant when considering all the things Wilbur blamed on the mysterious villain.

How many things did Wilbur do, when he was lost in a dream, or an illusion of his own mind, that would normally be against his own will? And if Wilbur was capable of such extreme violence against himself…who's to say that they themselves, or the other kids in the orphanage, were safe?

"We have problems." Goob finally said, voicing their thoughts aloud. The other two sighed in agreement.

"Well, the most urgent problem we have are these cuts," Lewis said, shutting the kit with disgust, "I don't know how to stitch, and all the other supplies are useless…guys," he sighed, "I think we need a doctor again."

Everyone groaned except for Wilbur, whose eyes widened, "What?! But I can't go to the hospital, they'll call the police and-"

"The police will send you to the funny farm," Goob finished, his eyes more tired and droopy than usual, "Yeah, we know…though; I'm starting to wonder if that's a bad thing."

"I'm not crazy!" Wilbur retaliated, wincing as the sudden furrowing of his brows made his scratches sting, "Ow…"

Goob rolled his eyes, "Yep, that seems perfectly sane. Now shut up Wilbur, the grown-ups are talking," Goob turned to the other two 'grown-ups', ignoring Wilbur's outraged shouts as Goob said, "So, how do we handle this guys?"

There was a pause, before Franny piped up, "Dr. Reed?"

The boys sighed as Wilbur just gave her a look of confusion, Lewis agreeing aloud, "Dr. Reed."

6

At Saint Heart Hospital, when Nurse Carla has told Elliot that there was a group of kids in the examination room requesting her, she had suspected from the beginning who they were, but still found herself stunned when she opened the door to four very familiar children.

"The clinic said you had taken a job here," Lou, the little blond one and who Elliot had established as the leader of the small group, said bashfully, head down, "We didn't know who else to go to."

Elliot's eyes were drawn to the tallest boy, William, who looked up at her, only one eye poking out from behind a blood stained towel, wary and suspicious. '_Well,_' Elliot thought miserably to herself, '_At least he's conscious this time._'

"No," Dr. Reed sputtered, furious as she closed the door behind her, "Oh, no, no, no. You kids came into my office, or, waiting room," she corrected, thinking of the miserable experience her time at the local clinic had been, "and you stole prescription medicine and skipped on the bill! I should call the police!"

"What! You guys stole that medicine?!" William shouted, looking more awed then surprised, accidently knocking against his scratches again, "Ow!"

"Well, how else did you think we got them?" The little girl asked, her hands back onto her hip. Dr. Reed couldn't help but notice that the kids no longer looked like street children, as she had originally believed. And the William boy was injured again. What was with these kids?

"What the frick happened to your face," The doctor in her suddenly said, realizing that while there were matters that needed to be handled concerning these children, it was probably better to treat the latest injury, "Did somebody claw into your face?" she asked, feeling sick at the sight, though she masked it well. The cuts weren't so deep to be disfiguring, but a few of them would definitely need stitches.

"Something like that," the littlest boy in the baseball cap finally volunteered, when William seemed reluctant to say anything, "Can you help him Mrs. Reed?"

"Dr. Reed," Elliot corrected, taking away the dirty towel and giving him some paper towels to put over his cuts, before turning to the littlest boy and girl, "What was your twos names again?"

The little girl frowned, but the boy, having expected this, said quickly, "I'm Gabe, and she's Frankie. Why?"

Dr. Reed raised an eyebrow, before rolling her eyes, "Whatever, I'll find out your real names later. I'm going to give your friend here some stitches, but I can't have you kids in the room during the procedure. But, if you think for one second I'm leaving the three of you alone to run off again, you guys have another thing coming." She warned, heading towards the door and opening it, "Carla?"

"Yeah," the nurse the kids had previously talked to called back from the front desk, "I'm a little busy, Elliot, what is it?"

"Call in J.D. or Turk, ask if one of them isn't busy, I got three kids that need watching while I patch up their friend."

"Why don't you just leave them in the waiting room?" Carla called back, before pausing, "Wait…are these those kids you were telling up about? From the walk-in clinic?" Carla peeked into the doorway from her desk, before laughing, "Jeez, Elliot, their all like, ten years old! You let these guys give you the slip?"

"Their tricky!" Elliot squawked, blowing some hair out of her face in frustration, "Just call the boys!"

Carla shrugged as she picked up the phone, "Whatever you say girl."

7

Lewis, Goob and Franny, now known as Lue, Gabe and Frankie, were taken upstairs to the faculty lounge to wait for a very nervous Wilbur, now known as William, to get fixed up. In front of them were two doctors, who had been told repeatedly to "Not take your eyes off them, because they're frickin tricky!", and so were taking their orders quite literally, and had yet to take their eyes off of them. This had proved to be uncomfortable for all parties.

"So…" one of the doctors, who the kids had only been introduced to as J.D., finally said, "Do you kids like television?"

"No go J.D." the other doctor, who was introduced as Turk, said dryly, "Carla said that if we try and plant them in front of a tube and forget about them, she's have both our ears."

J.D. frowned at this, touching one of his ears lightly, "I like my ears."

"Yeah, me too." Turk sighed.

"Aw, thanks," J.D. grinned, "I do try to take care of them, and it's nice to see people notice."

"That's not what I meant J.D." Turk frowned, before looking at J.D. ears, "Though, now that I think about it, they do look nice. Do you use some sort of oil or-"

"How long should Wilbur's stitching take?" Lou asked, both to know, and to interrupt what was shaping up to be a very odd conversation.

"Well, Delinquent," J.D. said, taking a moment to stress the 'De'. Like Carla, both he and Turk had heard of the four dastardly juvenile delinquents who had stolen pain medicine from Elliot. To see the four very sweet looking children in person made the already hilarious story funnier, "It shouldn't take any more than a half hour at most, assuming that your friend is behaving himself and keeping still."

"And kids, you should know that once he's patched up, we _are_ calling the proper authorities," Turk warned, "So, you might want to tell me and J.D. here what the deal is before you have to talk to people who might not be as willing to listen. First off, why did you steal the pills from the walk in clinic? From the way she tells it, it sounded like she was going to practically give them to you anyway."

Immediately Gabe and Frankie looked at Lou, signaling the boy to speak for them, who just frowned shyly as he said, "We…knew she would call social services, since we weren't with an adult, and we didn't want our…parents…to find out where we were. We know we were wrong to steal the medicine, but Wilb…William was hurt, and we didn't know what else to do. We're sorry."

Turk and J.D. exchanged a look before J.D. said, very carefully, "And, why didn't you want your parents to know you had gone to the walk in clinic? …If there's something going on between you and your parents, you know you won't get into trouble for tell-"

"No!" Lou piped up, realizing what direction this was heading, "No, it's nothing like that! We were just playing somewhere our parents didn't want us to play, a, um, construction site, and William fell into a hole and hurt himself, and we were afraid we would all get into trouble if we went to our parents for help. They still don't know." Lou lied, trying to muster any sympathy his age could generate as he whimpered quietly, "Are you going to tell on us?"

To his immense surprise, as Lou had never really thought of himself as 'cute', the two men visibly melted. Lou looked at Gabe and Frankie on either side of him and realized they had gotten the signal and were adding their own pitiful cuteness to the equation. Together, the three of them proved to be a credible threat, as both the men actually said, "Aww…"

"Hey! None of that now!" the group jumped as Dr. Reed walked in, her heels clicking menacingly as she glared at the other two doctors, who realized what they had been doing and looked adequately shamed-faced. The kids looked around for William, who made no appearance. Seeing the kids searching look, Elliot said simply, "I left him in the examination room. The kid would barely talk to me, and when he did, he called me Tall Blond Lady. I felt like I was talking to The Janitor." She sighed, before turning to J.D. "Dr. Dorian, can I talk to you?"

Leaving Turk to watch the kids, J.D. and Elliot stepped out into the hallway. "So, how's the kid?" J.D. asked.

Elliot bit her lower lip, "He stood still for the stitching, but would barely talk to me, and got angry when I got persistent in asking where the scratches came from. Also, I had him take off his shirt so that I could look at his shoulder. The kids have been taking care of it alright but…this kid definitely has a history of injuries. What did the kids tell you and Turk?"

J.D. shrugged, "Kids said they stole the meds because they were playing in a place their parents didn't want them too, and panicked when the William kid got hurt; they were afraid you were going to tell on them or something. Something was fishy about the whole story, but when I started to ask about their parents, the blond kid Lou got very defensive and said right off the bat that their folks weren't abusing them. I don't know Elliot, it's looking more and more like these kids are in trouble; do you still want to call the police?"

Elliot huffed, clearly distressed, "Well, what else am I supposed to do? At the very least, even if the kid are in an abusive situation, I could ask the police to keep them in custody for a night; that would give me time to draw up a proper abuse report."

J.D. nodded. This sounded fair, "Okay, but we should probably take a look at the other kids too; if it's abuse, then William probably isn't the only one with injuries. Do that before anything else?"

They agreed on this before walking back into the lounge. Turk was reading a medical magazine idly. The kids weren't there.

"Turk, where are the kids?" Elliot asked, stunned.

Turk glanced up, "Oh, the two little ones needed to go to the bathroom, so Lou's showing them the way. They'll be back in a second."

There was a heavy silence. Elliot twitched. "They…had to go the bathroom…so you just let all three of them _go? Unsupervised?_"

Turk rolled his eyes, "Heck no, Elliot, what do you think I am? The restroom is right down the hall, I watched them go into it from here."

Elliot's mouth twisted into something that could have been a smile, had it not been furious, "and let me guess, Lou stood watch outside?"

Turk shrugged, "Uh, sure."

Elliot nodded, the smile still there, "And then you picked up the magazine…Turk, has it occurred to you yet to wonder why Lou _isn't_ _in the hallway anymore?_"

Turk blinked, craned his neck to check and realized that, yes, Lou wasn't in the hallway anymore. He also had the sinking feeling that if he were to check the restrooms, the kids wouldn't be there either, "…oops."

"Frick!"

8

"I can't believe we skipped out of a hospital bill. Again!" Lewis cried out in frustration as he, Goob, Franny and Wilbur all ran down the street as fast as they could. They had picked up Wilbur on the way out. He seemed tired, had five black stitches on his face, and had to be careful of his sling, but the teen was keeping up just the same.

"This is becoming a bad habit," Franny agreed, pausing before saying, "But, running for your life is great exercise! I should try it more often."

"At least Wilbur's awake this time," Goob pointed out, enjoying the brisk run as much as Franny was.

"I still can't believe you guys have done this before," Wilbur admitted as the four of them stopped at a bus stop, quickly hopping onto the bus and carefully paying the fare. The four took up two seats, each huffing and puffing from the run, "So, what, this makes it twice now?"

"And hopefully the last time," Lewis muttered before glaring at Wilbur, who winced at the look, "This can never happen again Wilbur. _Never_. We can't keep doing this!"

Wilbur nodded frantically, "Okay! I promise, this won't happen again, it was just an-"

"Accident or not!" Lewis shouted, ignoring the annoyed glances he was getting from the other passengers, "If this happens again…if, for whatever reason, you get so hurt that we have to take you to the hospital _again_…I swear Wilbur, I'll drag you to St. Anne's myself!"

Wilbur stared, stunned by the proclamation as Lewis turned to look broodingly out the window, and even Goob and Franny sat in uneasy silence at the weight of that promise. The rest of the ride back proved to be quiet and uneventful, and when they got back to the orphanage, Wilbur was left to climb the fire escape himself as Goob and Lewis walked through the front entrance, Franny having already headed home.

As the two boys climbed the stairs, taking a moment to say hello to Mildred, Goob asked Lewis quietly, "Did you mean it? About St. Anne's?"

Lewis nodded grimly, "Yeah. If Wilbur keeps getting hurt, then clearly we can't take care of him. It would be the best thing for him…and for us." Lewis suddenly stopped, leaned on the wall, and sighed heavily, "I don't know how much more of this I can take Goob. Before Wilbur came in, everything was going _right_, for a change. I had won the science fair and the internship, and got my memory scanner working. You won that baseball game of yours the day after, didn't you? After it was delayed to the storm?"

Goob nodded, smiling at the memory, "Caught the winning catch. Got the trophy in our room, since you hadn't noticed yet."

Lewis smiled sheepishly, "Sorry. But, that's just the thing! All these good things have been happening to use lately, like the fair and the baseball game, and Franny, and we don't have time to appreciate any of it because of Wilbur. I just don't know if I can keep this going…"

Goob considered this, understanding entirely where Lewis was coming from, but… "In Wilbur's defense, we wouldn't actually have met Franny without him. And you got to admit, life has certainly gotten interesting ever since he showed up. It's not every day we get to escape from a hospital." Goob pointed out, raising a chuckle out of the taller boy before continuing, "Look, if Wilbur gets hurt again…then you're right. We've clearly bitten more off then we can chew, and we'll go to the proper authorities. But, for now, until that happens…let's not bring it up again. I think you really scared him by saying that."

Lewis frowned, "Well, maybe scaring him will make him easier to handle…" Noting Goob's raised eyebrow, Lewis laughed, "Okay, maybe not. Fine, I won't bring it up again…but, I won't have forgotten saying it, either."

Goob nodded, "Cool. Hey, before we head up, want to grab an ice cream? I think Mildred went shopping today. We can grab one for Wilbur too."

The boys walked off.

9

Upstairs, having managed to climb up with only one hand (which was damn difficult, but Wilbur wasn't about to complain, oh no sir.), Wilbur pulled himself into his closet and quietly closed the door behind him. He laid down on the floor and curled up into the blankets, and furrowed his head, which still hurt badly (but he wasn't going to complain, no him, no.), as far into the pillows as he could go, and kept very still.

He thought about what Lewis had said. He played it over and over in his head. The words '_I'll drag you to St. Anne's hospital myself!'_ vibrated loudest in his head.

In the darkness, Carl said, "Sounds to me like this time you're really in trouble."

Wilbur didn't even bother looking around this time. He just furrowed deeper into the covers, pretended he hadn't heard anything, and shivered.

10

_The man had spent the day in leisure. Sure that his plan was running smoothly without his observation, he had spent the day with _her_, lingering over a well cooked breakfast and watching a trilogy together, just enjoying the rest. Everything was going according to plan; the man was practically giddy with happiness. Going into the little wretch's room, he pulled the book from under the boys bed and he and her enjoyed a good laugh at his expense as they thumbed through the well worn pages, taking cold delight in ripping the edges of the beloved little writings. That night, they slept in their bed, content and relaxed, without a care in the world, and had a deep, pleasant sleep._

_The moon was half full._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**Authors Note:**

Hello, beloved readers. Congratulations to making it all the way to chapter seven! This is, officially, the half way point of the story, and is where, as most of you will be excited about, the questions end, and the answers begin. That's right folks, after this chapter, everything will be focused on answering all the questions raised in the first chapter, such as: Why is Wilbur so obsessed with Lewis, and what is his past? Does the bowler hat guy exist, and if so, what is his evil plan? What the heck is up with Goob about Franny? Will Lewis ever find out who his mother is?

And finally, the least touched upon, but most important question of all:

Who is the woman in the basement?

To mark this joyous occasion, I thought it was about time I thanked all of my reviewers…by name! (Um…Warning: this may take awhile.)

**Thank you to: **

**Emily**: my very first reviewer! As you can see, I did 'keep going'.

**Annonymous**: I don't know who you are, buddy, but I appreciate you all the same!

**Silverkit**: Also, I'm assuming you're **Silverfox** as well. If not, then thanks to both of you!

**mtrfan1029**: Always happy to please a MeetTheRobbinsons fan! Thank you for faithfully reviewing most of the chapters.

**Zaehlas**: Many thanks for the comment that my plot seemed 'well thought out'! I don't know why, but that made me ridiculously happy.

**Elfpen**: Well, in response to the fact that you basically said you loved my fic no less than three times in your review, here is my response: Loved your review!

**Silverlake**: Could this possibly also be SilverKit and SilverFox? Or do just most of my anonymous reviewers love the word 'silver'? WE WILL NEVER KNOW!...Unless, of course, Silver tells us ^_^. Either way, thank you for the review!

**LaLaCat1**: Is there a LaLaCat2? Thank you for the reviews! (Yeah, so? I rhymed. Is that a crime?)

**Americanvampire**: Also known as 'Samara', an absolutely lovely name. If you liked the dark parts at the end of the last seven chapters, just wait for the next ones. Let's just say the man with the bowler hat is going to get a lot more involved…

**Silvermoondemon16**: Yes, Silvermoondemon, time WILL tell! Thank you for the reviews! Hopefully, everything will be explained to your liking soon.

**i don't have one**: You should get one! I'll update again as fast as I can, thanks for dropping the review!

**Tjix**: Thank you for the compliment. It's always nice to know my attempts at literacy are appreciated :)

**DeengoBlue**: Mrs. Robinson is always so much fun to write, and I'm glad to know my readers are enjoying her just as much as I am.

**Spirit414**: Wheee, another long review. Those make me squeal with joy! Thank you for your comments Spirit, they made my day when you first sent them, and they make my day as I reread them now.

**Castell-Penn**: Ha, I'm glad you like my Wilbur. Yes, I do tend to torture the poor boy, don't I -_-;

And also, a special thanks to two special reviewers.

**Reidluver**: My most consistent and vocal reviewer, thank you so much for sticking around for this little ficlet as long as you have. I always look forward to your reviews!

And

**PichiKeen**: Who not only stayed up all night to read my fanfic and then left SIX HUGE, GLORIOUS REVIEWS, but also then graciously volunteered to be my beta when I was in need of one most. If this chapter strikes you as particularly fine, then she's the one to thank. Thank your PichiKeen!

Alright, that's it. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter, and the chapters that will soon follow it. Thanks again to everyone who reads my fic (whether your reviewers or not), reading all of your reactions is half the fun of writing.

On with the story!

0

It was little Johnny that had started the rumor that there was a ghost in the orphan building. This rumor had not been born out of any sort of mischievous intent, but through a true belief that what he said was true, due to the one night he had walked down from the fourth floor to get a glass of water from the kitchen.

When he had been heading back up, glass in hand, he had heard, on the third floor, a peculiar noise. Curious and unafraid, he had headed to the hall the noise was coming from, and recognized the noise to be a soft sort of moaning sound, like someone was in pain. The moaning had been coming from where he knew Lewis and Goob's rooms were, but when he had peeked through the door to make sure they were alright, he saw the boys were both asleep in their beds while the moaning continued. Little Johnny had considered waking up the two boys to help him investigate the noise from their room, but being a young boy of five and his courage already spent to its limit, he let the chills get to him and immediately ran back up to his room to hide under his blanket until morning.

The next day he had eagerly explained over breakfast the strange thing he had heard, and other kids, following his lead, began to confess other weird things they had noticed around the building as of late. Heavy footsteps in the middle of the night, food especially saved disappearing with no confessions, windows and doors open when the previous user was sure he or she had shut it. One kid even said he thought that one night he had spotted a kid he had never seen before, walking the hallways, but when he called out to him the kid had disappeared into the next hallway, and he hadn't seen him since.

The kid was instantly congratulated as being the first to actually see the ghost.

The kids latest new favorite activity was to get together to discuss and swap the latest weird stories of the ghost kid of the house. One kid said he had gone online and found out that back when the orphanage had been an apartment building, a kid had died of a brutal murder, and must apparently still be haunting the place. Another kid swore up and down that Mildred herself had said that the land the orphanage was built on used to be an old Indian burial ground. One of the girls suggested that maybe the boy that had broken in nearly a week ago had come back and was now hiding in the house. She was laughed at.

Still, as fun as these occurrences were, the kids couldn't help but notice they were occurring less and less as the days went on. In the last three days, there had been no missing items, no opened windows, no heavy footsteps. All signs of the ghost had simply stopped, much to most of the kids' disappointment. Everyone was beginning to suspect that the ghost had passed on.

Goob, of course, had another theory.

"I think you broke him." Goob said to Lewis as the boys walked home from school. It was Wednesday.

"I did not!" Lewis cried back, feeling defensive because a similar thought had occurred to him earlier that day, "He's just…tired. Or maybe it's the pills, they could have side effects or something. It doesn't have to have anything to do with me."

"Mhmmm," Goob hummed as he blew a large gum bubble, completely unconvinced as, with the gum safely back in his mouth, he said, "He's been acting totally different ever since you told him you would send him to Anne's yourself. He doesn't go out without permission anymore, he sits quietly in his room for hours…heck, he barely talks at all now."

"Well, isn't that a good thing?" Lewis protested, knowing even as he said it that it was stupid to think it was. Seeing how angry Lewis was with him, Wilbur had done a complete one eighty overnight, putting up as good a show as he could that he was a good, safety-orientated, _perfectly sane, please don't commit me_ young man. While at first Lewis had been grateful for a chance to catch up on his studies—something he had been so behind on that didn't have the time to try his memory scanner yet, he was so busy—but after the first day, Wilbur's sudden meekness had become just plain…plain…

"Weird." Goob said dryly, "That's what it is. Wilbur's become this weird, quiet statue; I can't even get him to rant about the future like he usually does."

"Wilbur's told you about the future?" Lewis asked, feeling surprised. When Wilbur had told him about the future for those few moments four days ago, it had seemed like a very private, personal thing…something he couldn't imagine Goob being very good at listening too. He felt a prickle of annoyance as Goob just shrugged, as if it were an obvious, everyday thing to talk about.

"Yeah, a couple of times. If you give him a chance, that guy can talk about the future for hours…but then, that's probably not news to you." Goob finished lamely, completely clueless that Wilbur, the guy obsessed enough with Lewis to stalk him, had confessed more to Goob in two days then Lewis had heard in his week of knowing him. Was Wilbur really that uncomfortable talking openly with him…

…or, worse yet, was Lewis that an uncomfortable person to talk to?

"I haven't broken him," Lewis grumbled, quickening his pace, which Goob dutifully kept up with, "He's just…trying to annoy me, or something. Like a, 'isn't this what you wanted, be careful what you wish for!' sort of thing. I don't know! This isn't my fault though…it can't _always_ be my fault, right?" Lewis asked Goob, desperate for some reassurance, "I mean, it's not like I'm responsible for everything he does, right?"

Goob gave him one of those silent, indifferent looks he was so good at before popping another bubble, "You saved his life." Goob finally pointed out.

Lewis actually stopped, turning to look at Goob with a purely puzzled expression, "What? I mean, yeah…so?"

Goob shrugged, continuing on so that Lewis was now following him as they turned down their street, "So, haven't you ever heard of the saying, 'if you save a life, you become responsible for that life'? Anything that Wilbur does from now on, good or bad, is linked back to you, because if you hadn't interfered with natural selection then Wilbur wouldn't have ever had the chance to do it." Goob paused before adding, "Though, it goes both ways. Now Wilbur owes everything to you, so now all of his successes are yours, something you can cash in on anytime. Not a bad deal, I'd say."

Lewis sputtered, "But, but, you and Franny saved him too! So, it's the same for you, right?"

Goob shook his head, "If you hadn't been seeking Wilbur out, none of us would have even known he was there, meaning his life was saved based entirely on your decision to seek him out. Sorry Lewis, he's yours now. And I guess he knows it too, because he's following your wishes to the letter, don'tchya think?" Goob said, pointing to their room window as they walked up to their building. Lewis cursed. The two boys had accidentally left the curtains open, and Wilbur wasn't allowed to leave the closet when that happened because someone from the street might see him. Before Wilbur would have just taken the risk of closing the blinds himself before being seen, but now…

"Great, he's been in the closet since last night," Lewis sighed, again quickening his pace, but this time out of concern rather than anger, "His body's probably screaming at him for being still for so long. Come on Goob, let's go save him…again."

1

Wilbur's body _was_ screaming at him, but not as much from his arm as one would think. As Doctor Reed had properly diagnosed, his arm was recovering well, and he probably wouldn't even need the sling or the pills in another week.

No, it was every other bone in his creaking, stiff body, battling each other at his stinging joints as his body demanded an open space to flex around in, a chance to move, to do _anything but _sit_ here!_

'_I'll drag you to St. Anne's hospital myself!'_

Dully noted, his body groaned, but if we don't get some fresh air soon, we really will go crazy…

"Wilbur?" Lewis called from outside, "Are you awake? The curtains are closed, you can come out now."

Getting up and moving was a slow process, but once he was standing, the process became immensely easier as he opened the closet door and stumbled out into Lewis and Goob's room. "Ow…" was all Wilbur could say, taking two jerky steps before allowing himself to lay down in the middle of the large room; every appendage stretched out as far as he could make it as he laid there, listening to joints give satisfying pops.

Lewis and Goob looked down at him, their worried and irritated faces taking up all of his vision. Wilbur was bemused by this. What on earth had he done now? Hadn't he done what he was supposed to?

"Have a nice day in the closet, Wilbur?" Goob asked, ignoring Lewis's quick glare, "You know, you could have risked closing it yourself. That would have been better then you sitting in there all day, wouldn't it?"

'_Is this a test?_' Wilbur thought, getting annoyed, '_What does it take to please these people?_' Instead of speaking his mind, he grinned, "Eh, it wasn't so bad. I kept myself out of trouble, anyway. How was school, guys?"

Instead of answering, they each looked at him for long time before Goob pulled Lewis to the side of the room. Wilbur, the nosy type, strained to hear what they were saying.

Mutter, mutter, "…fix this…" mutter, mutter, "…weird…"

Grumble, grumble, "…not my fault…" Grumble, grumble, "…too seriously…"

More grumbling and mumblings, a light but aggressive hit on the arm, a glare, a sigh, and then Goob left the room, just leaving Wilbur and Lewis. Lewis sighed again, though this time it was more out of aggravation. He plopped himself into the desk chair and looked at Wilbur, who was now sitting up, for such a long time that Wilbur worried that it really _had_ been a test; one in which he had failed. Was he being sent to Saint Anne's after all?

The silence continued on as Wilbur got more and more nervous to the point where he felt like giggling just to relieve the tension in the room. It must have shown on his face because Lewis raised an eyebrow curiously, "Something funny?"

"Not really," Wilbur confessed, before daring on, "Um, did I do something wrong here? Because you have the same look my dad gets whenever he's trying to decide whether he should bother grounding me or not."

"Goob says you talked about the future to him a lot," Lewis finally said, not at all what Wilbur had been expecting.

Wilbur shrugged, trying to see the wrong in that and not quite grasping it as he said, "Well, sure. He asked me about sporting statistics once, and I told him I didn't know, and then we got into a big discussion about sports in the future and, you know, it just kind of went off from there. I mean, I know I shouldn't really tell people about the future, but it wasn't about anything important, and Goob's going to see it eventually, right?"

"Sure," Lewis said simply, feeling stupid that he had even asked. What did it matter to him, that Wilbur and Goob talked more than himself and Wilbur did? Feeling ridiculous, Lewis finally bit out angrily, "Wilbur, why am I so important to you?"

Wilbur furrowed his brows. Another question he hadn't been expecting. "What?"

Lewis put up a finger, and then another, and another, like he was counting, "First, you come around saying you have to 'protect me', then you _stalk_ me back to my _house_, and now you act like you're perfectly content to just live in my closet the rest of your life! That's not just crazy, Wilbur, it's obsessive! So why are you acting like this? And **don't** say it's because of the Saint Anne's thing, because those three things were true even before I threatened to commit you."

Wilbur's eyes widened with shock, but only momentarily before he grinned uneasily, "That…is really an excellent question."

Lewis narrowed his eyes at him, "Yes, yes it is, and one I want an answer for. What's the deal between you and me, Wilbur? Why is this bowler hat man, who is only real in your head, Wilbur, after me?"

"He is real!" Wilbur shouted back, standing up and not remembering that he was supposed to be keeping a low profile as he shouted again, "Lewis, even if you don't believe anything else I tell you, you have to believe _that_ because he's _after_ you! How do you think I hurt my shoulder, huh? What, do you think I threw myself down that hole?"

Lewis didn't say anything, and Wilbur flinched, "Geez…you do believe that, don't you? You think I hurt myself. Holy cow, Lewis, how can you think that?!"

Lewis didn't say anything, but just stared pointedly at one spot on Wilbur's face 'til the teen realized that the boy was looking at his self made scratches, so severe that they had needed stitches. Wilbur had boasted that they made him look bad ass, but in truth he avoided his own face in reflections, perfectly aware at how disturbed the stitching made him look. Self consciously he raised a hand to trace one of the long injuries down the side of his face.

"Okay, so maybe I've had an incident or two," Wilbur finally confessed, frowning with something akin to fear in his eyes before he shook his head stubbornly, "B-but the construction site wasn't the same thing at all! That really happened…I-I'm sure that really happened…I-I'm sure…" but the more he said it, the less sure he looked as once again he traced the stitching down his face.

'_Are you _really_ sure, son?'_ His father's voice whispered in his ear, the old man's favorite line whenever he really wanted Wilbur to think about something, and though he remembered it being said to him with curiosity and good humor, in his head it sounded cruel and taunting, '_are you really, _really_ sure?_'

Wilbur felt a wince of pain and looked down to see that he was biting his hands, a habit he had quit a long time ago…except now, apparently, he hadn't. He looked up at Lewis, and the look on the younger boys face was no longer exasperation, nor worry, nor any of the other expressions Wilbur had grown used to seeing on the boys face, but just plain, bare pity. Such a raw and clean look of pure pity that it made Wilbur's stomach turn; he felt low and defeated, and suddenly wanted nothing more than to go back into the closet and lay in his bed and fall asleep, and maybe when he woke up he wouldn't be…stitched up, or trapped in the wrong timeline, or, or…

"…crazy…" Wilbur whispered, looking up at Lewis with stunned, misty eyes, "Lewis, am I crazy?"

Lewis frowned and was about to answer when Mildred opened the door. Lewis jumped out of his chair and Wilbur took a couple of panicked steps back, but it was useless, Mildred had seen Wilbur. The weird thing was the complete lack of surprise on her face to see this badly damaged child in her house, unaccounted for and unannounced, though her mouth grew small and thin when she spotted Wilbur's face. Mildred turned to Lewis. Behind her, a wide eyed Goob was looking in the room, as stunned as Lewis and Wilbur.

"Lewis, honey," Mildred said, her voice tense and angry, "We need to talk."

2

Apparently, Lewis and Wilbur's loud, angry fight had caught attention, and Mildred had been standing outside the door for a long time, too surprised by what she was hearing to walk inside. Asking Wilbur to wait in Lewis's room with Goob, she took Lewis aside into the next hallway, and they began the 'conversation' which, truthfully, consisted more of Mildred talking at Lewis, as most conversations between child and care taker went.

She had heard everything. Worse than that, she had already decided what she was going to do.

"You can't call children services!" Lewis shouted, feeling suddenly like the rug was being taken from beneath his feet, "You _are_ children services!"

"No, honey, I run an orphanage that is publicly recognized by the government, but that does not make me eligible to decide what to do with runaway, lost, or even abandoned children. I have to go through a lot of paperwork to get government permission to hold in my care each and every child in this building, including yourself." Mildred frowned as Lewis tried to interrupt with a 'but', before continuing on, "I'm sorry Lewis, but I don't have the right to just keep Wilbur, even if I did think it was the best thing for him to stay here, which I don't. I _have_ to send him to children services, where they will decide what to do with him." Mildred explained, and her heart broke at the sudden but brief look of pure fury that crossed Lewis's face. Fury directed at _her_.

But Mildred meant every word of it, and what she hadn't told Lewis was that she had already called services before even walking in. She understood why Lewis was upset--children always thought they could take care of themselves and that grown up's just got in the way of the process--but if what she had heard behind the door was true, than some teenage boy, possibly highly delusional, had been _stalking_ one of her charges. Mildred was furious with herself for not finding out sooner. After all, what if something had happened to either Lewis or Goob, two of her (otherwise) most sensible boys, who apparently had thought it a swell idea to keep a possibly dangerous stranger in their closet? It shook her to even think about it, and she told Lewis so.

"He's not dangerous!" Lewis said, feeling frustrated and afraid at the same time, "He's just a kid with an overactive imagination! Please Mildred, don't bring the government into this, Wilbur won't stand a chance!"

"My mind is made up, Lewis," Mildred said sternly, "I just still can't believe how…what is it Suzy?" Mildred asked the little girl who was peeking around the corner.

Suzy sauntered out a bit before saying shyly, "Um, that boy in Lewis's room is trying to leave through the fire escape. Mitch, Jake, and Jason stopped him and told me to come and get you, Mildred."

"Oh lord, that child is going to be no end of trouble, I can see," Mildred muttered, walking off before giving one final look back at Lewis to say sternly, "He's not stable Lewis. This is the right thing to do, for both him and us." She finished, before walking off.

"…the right thing…" Lewis murmured, feeling small and helpless and angry in that hallway. He should have been thrilled, that Wilbur was finally off of his hands, that he didn't have to be the responsible one anymore but, but… "Man, I hate that saying."

Lewis followed after her.

3

Interview Transcripts

Interviewer: Amelia Carthrin

Subject: Wilbur Robinson

Date: X/X/X Time: X

Interview started off with idle conversation about the weather, not necessary for transcripts. Wilbur, 13 year old Caucasian, seemed defensive and wary even on this subject though, so I decided to go right ahead onto the matter at hand.

A: Wilbur, why won't you tell us where your parents are?

W: _A long pause, clearly trying to decide how to answer _It doesn't matter. They're too far from here. They can't help you. _Much quieter, to himself _ or me.

A: Are they in another country? Are you afraid of immigration services, is that why you don't want to tell us?

W: _Seemed genuinely confused _ Immigration?

A: You don't know what immigration is, Wilbur?

Wilbur refused to say anything more on the subject, so I moved on.

A: Wilbur, where do you live? A teacher at the local middle school says you told him you lived nearby, and that your parents are out of town.

W: The old man. Yeah, that's what I told him…look, this whole thing is stupid! I don't need to be here, and I don't need you to take care of me! I have a home, and a family, so just….can't I just go?

A: We need to know who your family is Wilbur, and then we can contact them and they can come and get you. Don't you want that?

W: _Again, quietly to himself. Perhaps has a habit of talking to himself? _I wish Lewis was here.

A: Ah, yes, Lewis. That brings us to the next subject; why are you stalking Lewis Cornelius? Did he do something to you?

W: What? No!...like what? No, I'm not stalking Lewis. I just…I have my reasons. That's one of the reasons you guys have to let me go. Lewis needs me!

A: Why, Wilbur? Why does Lewis need you?

Wilbur mumbles something unintelligible about bowler hats.

A: Lewis was very concerned when we came to get you Wilbur, do you remember? He wouldn't answer any questions about you either. He was very worried about something. How did you hurt your arm Wilbur?

W: Fell.

A:…Wilbur, if Lewis has done something, you know it's alright to tell us.

W: What!? No, jeez, no, what are you saying! Lewis is the one who saved me!

A: From who? You're parents? Is that why you've been living in Lewis's closet for the last week, because you don't want to go home?

W: _growing increasingly agitated_ No, my parents are…why do you think I'm being abused? No one is hurting me! M-My parents would never, ever hurt me! Lewis would never hurt me! That's why they're parents! Parents should never hurt their kids!

A: Yes Wilbur, that's right. Parents should never hurt their children. If they do, they're not really parents, and don't need protection.

W: Uh…right. Right. That's right.

A: The doctor we assigned to look over you says he found a lot of scars on your body, definitely older then from your…fall. Can you tell me about those Wilbur?

Wilbur remains silent.

A: Wil-

W: He's lying. I-I don't have any scars. He's just s-saying that because I called him bald!

A: Dr. Roberts wouldn't lie Wilbur. Why would you say that?

W: He's lying!

A: We're they self inflicted, like the ones on your face?

W: That was just a bad dream.

A: What was your dream about?

Wilbur has started crying at this point, but I do not believe he realized it. Eventually he does, and his reaction to his own tears was outright disgust. I allowed him time to compose himself.

A: You say that Lewis needs you, and that's why you've been living in his closet. Why does he need you, Wilbur?

W: I…I need to protect him. Please let me go…

A: Protect him from what, Wilbur? From someone? Who does Lewis need your protection from?

W: _exploding_ The Bowler Hat Guy! Even while we speak, the villain could be going after Lewis, this very minute! Ugh, this is so stupid!

A: Bowler hat guy? Who is he?

W: I…okay, I don't really know. He stole my time machine, and I know that the reason he did this was so he could go after Lewis. I don't know what he's planning, but I have to stop it, don't you see?!

A:…time machine?

4

It was two days later when Lewis got the news. Mildred was the one who had told him, perhaps as an attempt to make peace with the boy, who still couldn't look at her without feeling his blood boil a bit. Franny and Goob, who were spending more and more time with each other, were up in his and Goob's bedroom, and so Lewis silently went up to the room. When he walked in, Goob and Franny, sensing his dark mood, looked up at him with curiosity and worry. "What's wrong?" Goob asked.

"They committed him." Lewis said.

5

_The man read it in the newspaper. Boy breaks into orphanage, committed. There was a long article about what mental delusions the boy was suffering, all about time machines and bowler hat men, but he didn't care about that. He knew all about that. _

_He had not planned for this._

_He reached up to his hat and said, "Darling, we have a problem."_

_On his head, the hat hummed._

-TBC-


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Authors Note: _Sorry this took so long! We have another Guest Star in the fic this chapter, though it's far more obvious this time. However, just to be sporting, everyone that points him or her out still gets a virtual cookie. Next chapter up as soon as possible!_

0

Are you running, Wilbur?

_Don't bother me boy_

_Milk go get the milk_

_Would you like to learn how to shave_

_No no no _

Are you running, Wilbur?

"Shut up."

_The cover says_

_Go get the milk_

_Mind your mother_

_No no no_

Are you running, Wilbur?

"Leave me alone."

_Lewis, the cover says Lewis_

_Whose Lewis_

_Should give it back, I should_

_Would you like to learn how to shave boy_

_Go get the milk_

_Mind your mother_

_No_

_Mind your mother_

_NO_

Are you running, Wilbur?

"No, no, no!"

_Lewis, Lewis, Dad _

_where are you_

_ Dad I need you_

_Would you like to learn how to shave boy_

You should really start running, Wilbur…

_Mind your mother._

_…yes sir._

1

"Ey, kid, you trying to scrub the metal off?" Lewis looked up blearily from his cleaning to see Michael, or the Michaels, staring down at him, one of them looking concerned, the other body looking amused. The blond then looked down to realize that he had been scrubbing the same part of the operation table he had been scrubbing ten minutes ago. It was hard to make rust shine, but it was certainly as close to whatever anyone had gotten.

"Sorry," Lewis muttered, putting down the scrubber and taking off his gloves soberly, his mind a million miles away. School not being enough of a distraction, he had come to the lab even though it was only Thursday, and asked if there was anything he could do. Unprepared for him and seeing right away that he wasn't at his best, Mrs. Robinson had put him on cleaning duty, and that was what he had been doing for the last three hours.

The cleaning was actually strangely soothing, Lewis discovered. The tasks were simple, with no need for any heavy thinking, but were also so physically taxing that it was hard to let your mind wander. The last three hours had felt like an unrestful sleep, and sleep was what Lewis needed the most at this point, as he certainly hadn't gotten any last night.

Wilbur, the crazy kid that had forced himself into Lewis's life through what could only be called stalking, had been thrown away into a hospital for…well, for being a crazy kid that had stalked his way into Lewis's life. And for thinking he was from the future, that too. Lewis had gotten the news yesterday, and had spent all the night before trying to wrap his mind around the idea. Wilbur was gone. He was no longer Lewis's problem, nor his responsibility. Lewis was now in the clear to focus on the things important to him, like discovering his mothers identity, his studies, and his internship.

…How long had he known Wilbur? Only two weeks? Not even that. Lewis couldn't remember what day he had met Wilbur, but however long it had been had apparently been too much, because now that he was gone, it w as suddenly like all those important things Lewis could now be doing, the machine, school, the job…none of it suddenly felt important anymore.

When the Michaels asked, he tried to explain this mind frame to them, but was having a hard time wording it.

"It's like…I don't know," Lewis struggled, looking at his hands in agony as they twisted and writhed in the air, as if he was struggling to catch what he was thinking and force it into some sort of shape he could understand, while the Michaels looked at him sympathetically, "It's like he became such a huge chunk of my days the last two weeks, that I can't remember what I used to do to fill up my time. It's like, with him gone there's a…a…"

"Hole?" one of the Michaels offered.

"Yes!" Lewis said, jumping up before slumping miserably, "No. I don't know. I just don't understand why I'm feeling like this. I didn't even like him! Goob, my friend, says that it's because me and Wilbur made some sort of subconscious social contract after I helped save his life but…that sounds almost superstitious." Lewis admitted, throwing down his rag as he sat at the table, ignoring the chemical fumes he had practically shoved into the tables DNA, "That can't be it, right? I'm not obligated to him, am I?" Lewis asked the sort of twins, which gave each other a look as they considered it.

"We don't really know much about that," one of the Michaels finally confessed, "the closest thing we have experienced to what you're talking about is too each other, and that connection is genetic. We're surprised. If you dislike this kid so much, why are you worrying about him so much? Why not just hate him and be done with it?"

Lewis winced at this, "I..I don't hate him. Maybe even dislike is too strong a word. He's not, like, a bad guy. What I mean is…I guess I just don't like the situation he brought with him, is all. My life had been tough enough as it was, and now I'm dealing with all sorts of madness. I hate it."

The Michaels sighed, "Now, _that _we understand. You know that before we were we, we were I, right?" Lewis nodded as the twins sighed, speaking together as they said, "well we…I…were obviously rather upset when we…I…split into two parts. Did anyone tell you that we had been engaged at the time?"

Lewis frowned, "No, I didn't know that. What happened?"

Again that unified, magnified sigh, "Madness, as you called it. We split up into two people, and our dear Lisa could not handle being engaged to such madness, and left. That was two years ago. We thought our life was over. We contemplated…" they seemed to recall the age of the person they were talking too before continuing, "…we contemplated many things, and thought that our lives were ruined, and that nothing could ever be the same, so long as each of us was burdened with the other. It was a dark time for us."

The blond nodded encouragingly, enraptured by the story, "Yes? And then what happened? Did things go back to normal?"

"No." The Michaels said simply, to Lewis's disappointment, "we were right on that mark, things would never be as they once were, not while there was too of us…but, life was not ruined, as we had feared. We adapted. We learned to use each other, and take comfort in our shared life, and together in the last two years we have done amazing things. Life was, and is, still madness…but it is a madness we now understand. There is method in all madness, Lewis, you must simply learn to find it's rhythm, to find and understand the madness's base, and the rest will be easy to adapt too."

Lewis nodded, considered this, and frowned, "Wait, are we talking about my life, or are you giving me advice on how to deal with Wilbur? I can't tell."

The Michaels sighed, as they reached down towards their shoes, "Let us explain it another way…"

2

Goob was a fairly well liked kid, when it came right down to it.

Though a bit on the plain-spoken side to the point of rudeness, most kids saw Goob as an endearing, funny guy, easy to get along with, his 'blah' attitude making him somewhat cool, despite his rainbow binders and unordinary small stature. Girls blushed when he talked to him, guys grinned when he said hello, and everyone paid attention when he did both.

So, everyone immediately noticed that Michael 'Goob' Goobian was royally pissed.

He had walked down the halls, brows furrowed, head low as he glared at some unseeing force ahead of him that needed to be taken down and shown a lesson. Everywhere he went, a dark cloud followed, one he seemed perfectly content to wallow in. Attempts at friendlessness were either ignored or replied to with a vicious aggressiveness. Nobody knew what his problem was that day, but when lunch came, everyone had gotten the word that Goob was not to be messed with, and so he sat at an empty table, and fumed.

Across the table, Franny sat down. "Hi Goob."

Goob frowned at her, "Franny…this isn't your lunch hour. You have lunch B."

"I know," Franny said flippantly, a tight smile on her face, "My parents grounded me."

"Which is a reason to start skipping class?" Goob said, raising an eyebrow at his macaroni, which had a hair in it. Why was there always a single hair in the macaroni? Was it some sort of cafeteria law? And why always gray? None of the lunch ladies even _had_ gray hair.

"What does it matter!" Franny suddenly cried, and Goob finally looked up at her and saw that the skin around her eyes was red and puffy, "You know why I got grounded? It wasn't the thing with Wilbur, oh no, they could care less about that. It was just because I went inside the orphan building. That's it! They said I was lying about where I was going, and I had told them that I was going to a friends house, and they said that the orphan building isn't a friends house, and I told them that it was because you guys _are _my friends and…and they just grounded me! God, I just….I hate them! Parents are the absolute worst, you know?"

"No." Goob said simply, going back to examining his macaroni.

Franny froze before sighing, "Oh…right. Forgot. Sorry. Nevermind… Jeez, you probably think I'm being a spoiled brat, right?"

"Nah," Goob replied honestly, "You and your parents just need to develop some communication skills." He began to stab at his macaroni. Hair or no hair, he was hungry.

Franny looked around, suddenly realizing something, "Where's Lewis?"

"He did you one better. He skipped school entirely," Goob said, stabbing his plate harder, "Went down to InventCo, I guess."

Franny watched her friend mutilate his macaroni with a puzzled from, "…Goob, what's wrong?"

Goob stopped, holding his plastic spork midair as he stared at his food, "…nothing."

Franny raised an eyebrow, "It doesn't look like nothing to me, unless you just really hate the food here."

"No." Goob said, suddenly looking up. There was fire in his eyes, "I mean nothing. We're doing absolutely nothing. For the last two weeks, we've saved lives, avoided cops, hid a fugitive, escaped from a hospital _twice_, and now that we have basically _lost_ the fight, we are doing _nothing_. _Do you understand_?"

Franny gapped, thrown by the harsh tone in the otherwise stoic boys voice, before getting angry herself, "Hey, don't sass me boy! So, what, you're bored? Is that what this is all about?!"

"No, this isn't about me being bored!" Goob said, standing up and shouting, not taking notice that the whole cafeteria had gone quiet, hundreds of little eyes looking at him in stunned bafflement, "This is about giving up! Because that's what we've done, isn't it!? Wilbur's gone, Franny, he's been gone for three days, and we haven't even _discussed_ the _possibility_ of getting him back! Lewis has become a, a, damned recluse," the kids gasped at the language, but Goob paid no attention as he continued, "he just does his homework and goes to his job and spends hours staring at his memory scanner without ever turning it on! And you-"

"What!?" Franny squealed, standing up in her chair as well, her face red and her eyes growing red-er as she choked out, "What!? Do you think I don't care? What is it exactly I'm supposed to be doing, Goob? The government has legal rights over Wilbur now, and face it, we're just kids, Goob, we did all we could! What are we supposed to do now!?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Goob screamed, taking his macaroni filled stryofoam plate, turning around, and throwing it at a wall. The other kids, as well as Franny and Goob himself, watched the plate slide down the white paneling with muted, stunned expressions before Goob sighed and collapsed back into his seat. One of the kids went to go find a teacher, though no one paid any attention to that either, all eagerly watching the show as Goob said, "I don't know. I've never felt so helpless in my entire life, Franny. Not when Dad got sick, not when Mom died, not after every adoption interview that ended with the couple going out the door and never looking back. Because I felt like I _could_ have done something, Franny. For the first time in my life, in this last week, I felt like I was doing something important. I don't…I don't really know what it was," Goob admitted tiredly, "I guess it was because for the first time ever, I had become a big factor in someone's life. Wilbur and Lewis both needed my help, and I…it will sound sick, but I felt powerful, unstoppable. I felt like Superman, protecting the whole world. And now…now…they just took him away, and the adults are saying it's for the best, and I feel like just some…like…"

"Like, now you're just an ant, and no matter how hard you try, what you do won't affect anything?" Goob looked up in surprise, because though the voice had been feminine, it hadn't come from Franny. He was mildly surprised to see that a crowd had formed around them, full of wide eyed, attention filled kids. The girl who had spoken had tears in her eyes.

"Like, stupid. Because it feels like the things that adults tell us?" another boy, his chin trembling but his eyes defiantly dry, stepped up, "That it's none of our business, that it's 'adult matters', even when it's something that directly effects us, like when they're moving us away."

"Or having a divorce," a younger boy, first grader, said sadly.

"Or taking the dog away to the vet, and you beg them to tell you why he isn't coming back," another girl said angrily, fists balled up, "and all they'll say is 'you'll understand when your older'. Even though you _heard_ them talking about having him killed, without even asking the person who loved him _most_, without even explaining _why._" At this the anger dissolved into tears, and the other crying girl immediately rushed over to give her a hug as more and more kids, all with similar stories, began to tear up as well.

Franny and Goob gapped at them, surprised beyond words, and yet strangely understood exactly what they all meant. Their story had been so unusual, they had both assumed that their feelings were unusual as well. The feelings of helplessness, the feelings of anger at a grown up world that you didn't understand, at adults that didn't want you to understand, that didn't want to explain why they sometimes did those terribly cruel things they did. The terrible, helpless feeling that these feelings were never, ever going to change, because you are too stupid and weak too change it; apparently this mind frame affected all children, though Goob had felt alone in it.

It occurred to Franny to wonder if this confused, helpless feeling happened to adults as well. If it was maybe feelings like this that made her parents so afraid of the orphan building across the street.

Finally the defiantly dry eyed boy stood out of the crowd, and looked Goob dead in the eye as he said, "It's…It's 'Goob', right? I've heard about you. My mom and dad were talking about you guys this morning at breakfast. They were sayings things like 'what's wrong with kids today' and 'they don't know how to listen' and 'I'm glad our little Stan isn't like that'. Well…" The boy, apparently Stan, stood up straighter, puffed out his chest, and said, "I just want to say, I wish I was like that, like you. Maybe the adults are right, maybe it was a stupid and dangerous thing you and your two friends did…but at least you were brave enough to help a friend, which is more than my dad can say. This is my first day at school here," the boy suddenly announced turning to the audience, his red puffy ball on his blue hat swirling as he did so, "and I've learned something today. My Dad moved me away from my home in South Park because something he did got his friend, my friend Kyle's dad, into trouble, and he didn't want to face up to it. Even though he was taking me and my family from everything we had ever known, I kept quiet because my dad was scared, and told me that I ought to be scared too, so I was."

Stan Marsh, as the kids full name was, looked back at Goob and Franny, "Look, guys, me and my friends have been in tons of trouble before, doing things we shouldn't have, dumb ideas and bad miscalculations; we're kids, it's expected of us. But…I don't think it changes as we get older. I think adults make those same mistakes too, only as you get older, the less willing you are to admit to it. Heck, an adult can make a mistake, and other adults are afraid to call them on it, because adults aren't allowed to make mistakes; sometimes, only a kid can stand up and point out the obvious. Do you two think it's a good idea to lock up your friend away from anyone that actually gives two rat asses about him, in order to make him _better_?"

Franny and Goob looked at each other, before shaking their heads mutely 'no'.

"Well, me neither," Stan said, "and I bet if you ask any kid out there, they'll say the same thing. Sure, we could all be wrong…but, what if when you get older, you look back, and discover you were _right_, long after there was any chance for you to do anything about it?"

"But what can we do?" Franny asked, mesmerized by the kids speech, as was everyone else, including the few teachers that had come down to break this whole thing up.

Stan shrugged, "I don't know. That's up to you, I guess. As for me…" he turned and walked towards the cafeteria doors, before glancing back, "With any luck, this will be the last time you ever see me. Because I am going to get my family back home, and convince my dad that we have to deal with our problems, instead of running away from it. I suggest you guys do the same."

And with that, the boy was gone.

It was like a gas leak that had suddenly cleared up, and everyone looked at each other in silent disbelief, confused and not entirely sure what they had been listening too, but knowing they had been moved by it regardless. The teachers, having forgotten why they had come down in the first place, mumbled the kids to get back in their seats and eat their lunch, as most the kids did, shuffling along with little spurts of hesitant conversation springing back up. Slowely, Franny and Goob returned to their seats as well, staring at each other awhile as the fog cleared from their heads, and they considered what just happened.

Finally, coming to a conclusion, Goob looked at Franny and said flatly, "Man, we have just been meeting the _weirdest_ people lately."

"Tell me about it," Franny agreed, rolling her eyes.

3

"We don't think we helped." The Michaels said as they walked down into the basement, where all the rest of the staff had gathered as well, the freeze storage room open and letting out such a chill that all of their breaths came out like steam. Having such a precaution was annoying, as it cost a lot of money and used up a lot of energy that could otherwise be used for other projects, but they all knew it was a necessary one. Such a thing as was held in that room was worked at the computers, running scans on the thing in the block of ice, Jonathon and Abraham were maneuvering the sensors around it manually, as the room wasn't properly equipped to have it done automatically. This was one of the reasons it was being moved next week into a safer, more secure lab out of state.

Mrs. Robinson was standing by Cherry, supervising the whole thing, and though this took up a lot of her concentration, she spared a moment to look up at the Michaels with a worried frown, "Oh, dear, really? Oh, if it weren't for this accursed thing, I could go up there myself and talk to him." Mrs. Robinson cursed, glaring at the ice room.

Cherry sighed, swishing her hair back in a way that would have been incredibly sexy, had her expression not been so clearly annoyed, "My, my, all this fuss over a thing that might not even be _active_. Me and Abraham have run the test a hundred times, and I still say these safety measures are unnecessary."

"That's not our call, and you know it," Mrs. Robinson scolded, "This order was made in cooperation with our CEO and the government, for heavens sake! Frankly, I can't wait until next week, as the sooner this is off of our hands, the better." She sighed, before turning back to the Michaels, "So, you really don't think you were any help with how sad he's been today? You're usually so insightful…"

The Michaels shrugged, "We don't know about that, but we think we confused him more than anything."

"He started banging his head against the table at one point," one of the Michaels added in as an afterthought.

"But that was probably because we tried to use sock puppet therapy." Admitted the other Michael, "Except we didn't have an actually puppet, so we just used our socks."

The first Michael looked down, "Now that I think about it, I think we left our socks behind."

The Michaels remained straight faced when the others gave them openly bewildered looks. Sometimes, it was hard to tell if the split had messed up their sanity a little bit, or if they were just trying to mess up everyone else's.

"Anyway, he went home," The Michaels finished, "Though he did a heck of a good cleaning job before he left."

"He's such a good boy," Mrs. Robinson said affectionately, smiling at the thought, "Oh well, it's probably for the best he go home. With any luck, time will heal this. I still can't believe he was involved with a child mentally unstable enough to be committed! Oh, the danger that poor boy was in! I know his caretaker can't always be everywhere, what with so many orphaned children in that building, but…goodness, sometimes I think I ought to just…" her voice trailed off absentmindedly, before she blushed, realizing everyone was giving her a curious look, "Well, anyway, back to work everybody. Everything needs to be fully prepared next week. Nothing can go wrong!"

"Fat chance of that," Duboff muttered to Cherry, "Anytime something really important needs to go off without a hitch, that's when murphy's luck pays a visit."

"Yeah," Cherry agreed with a grin, adding in half jokingly, "And ya know what? I looked at my calendar, and that night is a full moon. Crazy things _always_ happen at the full moon."

4

Every time his mind cleared up, he would start screaming and shouting and demanding to be released, and every time this happened the nurses and doctors, who had much higher profile cases to keep them tired, exasperated and distracted, popped him full of sedatives and left him in his bed. So, the last three days were hazy, full of bad dreams he only half remembered, and pretty lights he had never seen before and would probably never see again. When his drug addled mind cleared up this time, he was in a strangely passive mood, and kept very quiet and stared at the ceiling for three hours until his roommate looked over, saw how clear his eyes were, and realized he was actually coherent.

"What's up?" the roommate greeted, thumbing through a playboy magazine his older brother had snuck to him during his last visit, "You finally coming down from your high?"

"High?" Wilbur asked blearily, his voice raspy, as he had only used it for shouting lately, "Is that what that was? I thought I was dying."

"Yeah, some people view it like that," The roommate nodded, going back to his magazine, before saying absentmindedly, "So, what are you here for? Your parents commit you?"

Wilbur tried to remember. What had happened? He and Lewis had been fighting…had Lewis made good on his threat? No, no, it was that African-American woman, she walked into the room and…"No, I don't think so…I…I think I told the cops that someone stole my time machine…"

This earned a small glance from the roommate, an eyebrow cocked before nodding, "Yep, that'll get you in here, no doubt. Dude, that sucks. Whelp, welcome to Saint Anne's, where everyone's always half choking on cleaning fluid gas. That's what you're smelling, by the way."

Wilbur had been wondering about that. "So…I'm really here? They really committed me?"

"'fraid so." The roommate replied, utterly unconcerned, "Sucks to be you dude. I'm Bryan, try not to get any of your crazy on me, okay?"

Wilbur finally managed to find the strength to sit up, which he did so reluctantly. He looked around their room. It was small, a graying-white color, with one bared window of relatively normal size, fading blue curtains, two beds, one large dresser, and a door that looked like it led to a very small bathroom. It was very clean, but in an unsettling way, as if someone had worked very hard to scrub something very sticky off the walls. The entrance door had a small window on it, and though this window had no bars, Wilbur didn't doubt that the glass was reinforced.

Wilbur had had nightmares about rooms like these. Though physically it wasn't as bad of shape as the ones in his dreams, the feelings of being locked in and closed off were very much the same.

He looked at his roommate, trying to focus. Perhaps some of the drug was still in his system, but was only affecting him now that he was trying to move around, "Bryan…what are…you in for?"

Bryan rolled his eyes, "My rents put me in here. I stole the car, and they wanted to show me what would happen if I went to jail, but there's no juvie in the area, so they figured this place was the next best option. I'll be out of here in a couple of weeks. I'm lucky, I guess. A lot of the people in here are really messed up." Bryan said this with a pointed look on his face, as if to say '_if you're really messed up, let me know ahead of time so I can avoid you, kay_?' "How long are you here for?"

Wilbur frowned, his eyebrows furrowing almost painfully, "I…I don't know. I guess it depends."

"On what?" Bryan asked casually, staring with an almost bored expression at a models boobs.

"On if my friends come and get me or not." Wilbur said. And, because Wilbur was tired and Byran wasn't overly concerned, nothing more was said on the subject.

5

"That Stan kid was right." Franny suddenly said, as she and Goob walked home from school, a strange look on her face, "You were right too Goob. I _do_ hate feeling like there's nothing more I can do. And you know what. I don't think there _is_ nothing I can do."

"What do you mean?" Goob asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Why do we just have to let the adults take Wilbur away?" Franny asked, throwing her hands up in the air, "I mean, sure, our way had some problems…but so does theirs! Why can't there be a balance? Why can't Wilbur stay at the orphanage, and get therapy at the same time?"

"Huh…" Goob hmmed, seeming honestly interested, "I never thought of it like that. But that still doesn't explain how we can do anything."

"We'll do it sensibly," Franny said, saying what had been on her mind since lunch, "That was another thing the Stan kid was right about. We are kids, we do make mistakes, but so do adults. If we compromised with the adults, talk to Mildred, children services, and the hospital, maybe we can arrange a compromise. Wilbur can stay at the orphanage and use St. Anne's therapy, and with any luck maybe a couple will come in and adopt him, and be able to afford better care for him. It's perfect!"

"Not really," Goob said, "Older kids have a real hard time getting adopted. He'll probably end up staying in the orphanage till he's eighteen, like Lewis. Heck, even I'm getting on the older side, and I'm only eight." Goob pointed out.

Franny pouted before shrugging, "We'll, it's still better then a mental hospital, right? This way, he'll even be able to go to school and stuff, and we won't have to do anything crazy."

"Nothing crazy huh," Goob said, grinning a little, "I don't know. No heroic rescues, stupefying stunts, or silly antics? That doesn't sound like us at all."

Franny grinned back, "Maybe not, but this has the most likely chances of working, and will be better for everyone involved, if we can pull it off. I bet Lewis will be behind it too."

"Well, I guess we'll find out." Goob said, shrugging nonchalantly, but actually loving the plan. Sure, the process would take a while, and it would be hard, and frustrating, and maybe even a little boring at times, but damn if it didn't sound like it could actually work. Besides, not every rescue plan had to be crazy. What were they going to do, storm the hospital, take Wilbur back by force, and then hide him in a closet again? _That_ was crazy.

Goob and Franny got to the orphan building, and immediately went upstairs. They opened the door and saw Lewis on his bed, looking at something.

"Hey Lewis!" Goob said cheerfully, "You've got to hear this. We had this really weird thing happen at school today, but it gave Franny this really good idea on how to get Wilbur out of the hospital. It's pretty smart, and…Lewis, are you listening to me?" Goob asked, looking up at the blond, who peered down at him from the top bunk.

For a moment, Goob thought Lewis was dying. He had never seen the usually energetic boy look so tired before.

"Read this," was all Lewis said, handing them an envelope, "It was on my desk. The window was open."

Goob read it out loud. Franny gasped.

When he finished, he slowly lowered the letter down to his waist, stared at the air absently for a moment, before saying, for the very first time in his life, "Shit."

6

_The Letter_

_Hello Children._

_There will be a fire at the hospital._

_The fire will be at the time and date of my choosing._

_Your friend's room number is 156WB_

_His room will be locked. There will be no rescue for him…_

_Other than yourselves, of course._

_Sincerely, a person of interest._

_P.S. If you try to warn the police, and they stop my plans, I will become a very upset man with a lot of arson supplies left unused, who knows where all of you live. Good day. _


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Authors Note: This chapter was originally in three parts, but I decided it was time to push them all together. Enjoy Saint Anne's Asylum ^_^

And, in case anyone is curious…I am drinking coffee for the first time, ever, as I type this. It is disgusting.

0

_Ha…hahaha…hehehe…_

_Did you know _the drugs make you giggly, and _they had to put you down _silly thing_ because you screamed, you did, you screamed and thrashed, _youput up a fuss while you were asleep_ you had a dream, but you weren't asleep you were wide awake staring at the ceiling screaming because _yousaw it! It was right there, climbing on the ceiling! Oh God_ made a present for them, gave them lots and lots of red paint and you told them _it cut you, it's real, it cut you, but they _don't believe it, you know you're not crazy, but sometimes you _believe you're crazy.

_Better wise up, little buddy, because they put you in the little white room with the little white jacket, Wilbur, and the Bowler Hat Guy knows where you are, son, and the hat cut you all over your arms, you're sure it's real, but worst, but worst, THERE WAS BLOOD UNDER YOUR FINGERNAILS WHEN THEY FOUND YOU WILBUR, WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, BOY?_

_Ha…oh…ooooh no…_

1

"…What do we do?" Franny whispered, staring at the note with a mute expression of horror. They had been sitting in silence for the last fifteen minutes, Goob and Franny re-reading the note and trying to absorb the information, while Lewis gloomily reclined in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

"We should go to the police." Goob immediately replied, his eyes unusually alert, nerves shaken by the note.

"We can't go to the police," Franny argued, "We'd be putting everyone in this neighborhood at risk! My parents, Mildred, our friends, everyone! We can't make that sort of decision!"

"Well, we can't just sit around, knowing some lunatic is going to burn down a hospital!" Goob argued back, looking up at the bunk bed, "Lewis, what do you think?"

Lewis blinked. On that face, such an action looked like a very difficult procedure, "What do I think…I think I'm the biggest idiot in the world." He looked over, and motioned for the letter, which Goob after a moment handed over as Lewis frowned at the wrinkled, white paper, "You know who this was written by, right?"

In that moment, Goob realized he did know. It had seemed so natural to him that he hadn't stopped for a moment to consider the implication of what that meant. Franny, however, was lost as she said, "No…"

Lewis glanced over at her, his glasses drooping lazily at the edge of his nose, "No? Think about it. Burning down a hospital? Sounds about right up the alley of someone who would, say, break a kids shoulder and then push him down a hole, break idly an object of immense personal value, and, heck, let's go ahead and add in the theft of two rare, priceless inventions of history…"

Franny's eyes narrowed as it clicked, "The Bowler Hat Guy."

"But the BHG isn't supposed to be _real_," Goob stressed, grabbing his baseball from their desk and squeezing it in frustration, "if we admit that Wilbur's make believe nemesis is real, then…"

"Then everything else that Wilbur said suddenly needs to be re-examined." Lewis finished flatly, looking back at the ceiling, "I'm so stupid…how could I have believed he'd do that much damage to himself…he had bruises around his neck, for heavens' sake! How could I have been so stupid!" Lewis suddenly shouted, throwing his pillow at the ceiling, which fell back and hit him in the face with an, "Oof!"

"Lewis, we have more important things to worry about!" Franny interrupted the despairing child, who didn't bother to remove the pillow. "The letter, remember? Bowler Hat Guy or no Bowler Hat Guy, _someone_ is telling us that they're going to set fire to Saint Anne's, and my guess it'll be sooner rather than later, maybe even today! We have to do something!"

"Maybe we could go warn the hospital?" Goob suggested, "They have to take threats like this seriously, right? They'll evacuate."

"And then this Bowler Hat Guy, or whatever, will see the hospital evacuating, have to abandon his plan, and we'll have no idea who he is, and he'll have plenty of time and opportunity to come after us," Lewis said, his voice muffled under the pillow, "Same if we go to the police, because they'll do just like we want to do, and will evacuate the hospital as well. There's no way the police can find out who the threat came from based from the paper alone. We'll basically be condemning everyone in our neighborhood to the whims of some mad man. Trust me guys, I've been thinking about this for the last hour. Unless we can actually find this guy, we're screwed."

"And we don't have time to look for him, because like Franny said, this all could happen today," Goob added in drearily, before saying, "Though, why did it say we have to go save Wilbur? If there is a fire, the hospital would evacuate everyone, including the juvenile patients, right? What's the point of all this?"

"The point, is that whatever this guys agenda is, us having Wilbur with us is a part of it," Franny said, brows furrowed angrily, hating the feeling of being manipulated like this, "The fire's supposed to be a distraction, Goob, so that we can sneak in and take Wilbur back without anyone noticing. To force us along with this insane plan, I'm sure this guy has somehow made it so that Wilbur gets trapped, and we'll be the only ones who know ahead of time, so we'll have the best odds of saving him."

Lewis suddenly sat up, the pillow falling off of his face as he said, "But that's insane! It's way too risky, too much of this plan relies on luck and chance. What if the fire doesn't go as well as planned, what if someone else saves Wilbur first, or, the biggest possibility, what if we all die in the attempt? I can't tell if this guy is a genius who knows just how to make all of this work, or if he's an idiot _hoping_ all of this will work!"

"Genius or idiot," Goob drawled, motioning his hands like a scale, "Again, doesn't matter, either way, this a-hole is planning on burning down a hospital. The question is, what do we do about it?"

"Can't tell the hospital, he'll come after our neighborhood," Lewis murmured to himself, "Same with the police…and to ask anyone else for help would just be adding another complication…but he'll burn the…he'll…he'll have to be there…I've got it!" Lewis shouted, jumping down from the bed, running to grab and put on his shoes, "I've got it! We'll beat him there!"

Goob raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"Get there first. This letter couldn't have been here more than a few hours old. If we get to the hospital, just hang around there for awhile, keep an eye out, maybe we can catch him before he gets the chance to do it. Then we can call the police, who can come arrest him. Hospital's safe, neighborhood's safe, Wilbur's safe."

"Lewis, it's not a bad idea, but we have no idea what time this lunatic is going to show. He could wait till after midnight even, and I doubt any of us are allowed to stay out past eight, at most." Franny pointed out, though she too was grabbing her backpack, preparing to go.

Lewis grimaced at this, "Yeah…I hate to say it, but we might have to get in trouble for this one guys. Our guardians won't let us go if we tell them where we are, and we might have to stay there all night. It's just something we'll have to do."

"Let's bring sleeping bags then," Goob suggested, "And probably some flashlights. How do we get there anyway? Saint Anne's isn't even in the city."

"We can take a bus as far as Sitchen Street," Franny, who had been there before, told Goob, "After that, it's just a few miles down a dirt road called 19. We'll have to walk that though. I wish I had brought more sensible shoes." Franny pouted, staring down at her one of her prettier but stiffer pair of shoes.

"We'll stop by your house before we go, so you can grab some," Lewis decided, ruffling through Wilbur's room, more commonly accepted as a closet, for the sleeping bags, before stopping and turning to look at his two friends with a serious expression, "Guys, you don't have to do this. I could probably do this myself. You don't have to risk yourselves to come with me, if you don't want to."

Franny and Goob glanced at each other. Franny smirked and rolled her eyes, twirling her arms into each other defiantly over her chest as Goob grabbed his baseball bat and cap from against the wall, threw his cap on, and hefted the bat to lean over his shoulder as he said cooley, eyes back to their usual half-lid, "Don't even _think_ about leaving us behind, four-eyes."

2

It doesn't pay much, to be an orderly at a nut house, and she had bills to pay. That was why, when he spoke, she had listened.

He had said simply what he expected of her. He was greasy and fat and skinny and just all around so odd that the whole time she really couldn't bring herself to take him seriously, and listened to him because she had been trained to listen to the mad. She had nodded along, but hadn't really intended to do any of it…until he brought the check out.

Mad or not, she had to pay the bills, and this strange, dark, oddly dressed man was giving her enough to not only pay her bills, but buy a boat on the side.

The world was better off anyway, she kept telling herself, as she brought the cans out of her truck and put them into the janitors closet to use later. Being humane was one thing, but these people were all just a drain onto society, useless in nearly every respect, and most hopeless to ever recover. What would it matter, if one or two were caught, unable to escape? These people were nothing, and she, well, she had bills to pay.

Before she got started, she went to room 156B, where that boy was reading his damn magazine again, the same one he had been reading for the last year. She opened his door and stared at him for a bit, and, just to know, pictured his face black and burnt and charred. Any emotions? No. No guilt, no remorse, not even apprehension. Realizing she really just didn't give a damn, the orderly walked into the room and handed the boy a note.

"If anyone else comes in give, this to them." She said simply, placing the note beside him on a bed. He nodded mutely, not even looking at it, about as unconcerned with the world as she was. Not even this acknowledged similarity between them sparked in her a shred of pity, as she locked the door behind her, put the key in her pocket, and walked off to prepare.

After it was all over, and the police found the tapes of her discreetly lining the hallways of the hospital with nearly scentless oil, they asked her why she did it. She told the judge she had to pay the bills.

3

Wilbur groaned and opened his eyes, the sound of his own moaning muffled and just a tad too deep to be his own voice. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the brightness before he realized he was staring up into florescent lights and, again groaning, he rolled over to protect his eyes.

Surprisingly, the first thing he noticed, before the white room or even the jacket, which he had feared for such a long time, was the fact that he couldn't move his jaw.

"You bit a nurse." A familiar if somewhat mechanical voice said, the words seeming to fall flat amongst these padded walls, "Made her bleed, so they put a restraint over your mouth. Restraint masks, straight jackets, your hair that wild, unkept look…it all suits you surprisingly well, boy."

Wilbur froze, his heart in his throat, when long, thin fingers ruffled his hair, moaning fearfully when the hand pulled away. One thought dominated Wilbur's mind: is he really here?

'_I felt the hand, so this must be real.'_ Wilbur reasoned as he heard the footsteps walk leisurely around him, that same reason arguing back, '_you felt the metal against your arms too, but there was skin under your fingernails, Wilbur. You saw that just before they drugged you. That's why you screamed so much. It's terrible, watching your mind slip away from you.'_

Wilbur realized that the last thought had been said aloud by his tormentor, and noticed that he was missing some speech that would probably be important later, so he tuned in.

"To see the fabrics of reality falling away, one by one. It's an awful feeling, isn't it boy?" The man said, standing in front of Wilbur, appearing a million feet high from the ground level view Wilbur currently had before, like a crumbling building, the man suddenly swooped down and snarled into his face, "Now you know how it _feels_. Now you _know exactly what you did to me, you filthy creature!"_

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Wilbur tried to say, but the lock around his face made him sound like he was speaking garbage as he tried to push words through a mask and clenched teeth.

The man smiled, clearly amused by Wilbur's fruitless attempt to communicate, and his smile grew wider and more twisted as he watched Wilbur for a moment experiment with his jacket, trying to see if he could struggle his way out of its grip. It held firm, as it was designed too.

"Careful now, boy," the man warned, once again patting Wilbur's head in a show of false affection, "You'll reopen your stitches. You collected quite a lot of them, since I last saw you. I see you've grown a fondness for digging your nails into your own skin. Quite grotesque, no wonder they locked you up." The man cackled, standing back up, straightening his hat for a moment with true, loving gentleness.

"You almost ruined everything with this stunt, boy," The man admitted, "You have a knack for destruction, I've noticed. Considering how you entered the world, I suppose it's in your nature. But I've managed to solve our little problem. Lewis is coming for you. Very soon, I imagine."

Wilbur raised his head at this, both suddenly hopeful and painfully wary. On one hand, maybe Lewis could save him from this madman. On the other, though, Wilbur was aware this could all be some elaborate trap to harm Lewis. He wasn't sure what he wanted more; for Lewis to come, or for Lewis not to come.

The man was speaking again, "Soon, we will right the atrocious wrong you committed, you little creature. Soon, the greatest person on earth will walk the world again, that beautiful angel that _you-!"_ the man suddenly gave a furious kick into Wilbur's side, sending the boy literally flying into the wall, his head bouncing into the padding with a worrying snap, "-_murdered!"_

And suddenly the Wilbur as he wanted to be was gone and his eyes dilated and he sucked in sharp breaths of air through the pain in his side and in his arms and face and shoulder and everywhere in his body and kept saying through his muffling mask through clenched teeth that would shatter if he gripped them any tighter, "m'sorry, m'sorry, m'sorry," over and over and over again.

The man nodded, "Yes, you will be. Because once she walks again…there will no longer be a reason to allow you to suck up the precious air that rightly belongs to her." He leaned over Wilbur, who was now facing the wall, still staring at nothing as he continued, "m'sorry, m'sorry, m'sorry," and the man once again ran a hand through the boy's hair, again with that soft, mocking gentleness as he whispered, "Dream of time, dear boy. That should help pass it."

He then stood up, briskly turned around, and was let out of the room by an orderly who needed to pay the bills, who then locked the doors behind him.

4

"God, the mosquitoes are everywhere!" Goob finally screamed after five minutes of silent walking, taking his baseball bat and swinging it into the air wildly as he attempted to squash some of the bugs that preyed on him.

"I told you to put on some bug repellent," Lewis reminded him as he and Franny, who had also put on the bug spray, walked unmolested, "sunset is the worst time for mosquitoes."

"I hate bug spray," Goob grumbled as he scratched as some developing bites, "It smells bad and it's always sticky."

Franny frowned at the setting sun as the three of them began walking up a large hill, over the top of which they would be able to see St. Anne's from, "My parents will probably be noticing I'm gone by now. I don't know how I'm going to explain this to them tomorrow."

"Well, with any luck, we'll have caught the bowler hat guy by then. That'll explain everything." Lewis said hopefully, considering the same thing about Mildred.

"I still can't believe you brought your frog with you, Franny." Goob snorted, trailing slightly behind due to his shorter legs as they made their way up.

"I had to bring Frankie, he's never been at night without me!" Franny explained, smiling as, hearing his name, Frankie peaked out of her dress pocket, "My other frogs will just go to sleep, but I know Frankie will stay awake until we do our nightly practice. It would have been mean of me to leave him behind."

"Just don't lose him," Lewis warned, "It's going to be completely dark soon enough, and I don't want to spend all night looking around for a lost frog."

"We don't have to worry about Frankie," Franny assured, patting the frogs head as she cooed, "Do we Fwankie, wankie? No we don't, oh no we don't, my wittle-."

The boys rolled their eyes at each other before Lewis noticed the ground leveling out and, looking ahead, split into a big grin as the large building that was the mental hospital became visible, the smile falling as he got a good look at it. Like Franny had said, it was a large and fairly creepy looking place, with a long, tall gate around it, and a still, dead sort of feeling in the atmosphere. This was only made worst by the long shadows of the setting sun, which made the place seem far more intimidating then it probably would have during the early afternoon. His two shorter companions quickly caught up with him, and each looked at the sight for a moment as well.

"It's bigger than I thought it would be," Goob finally said, looking around the place, "How are we going to spot the bowler hat guy? He could come from any angle."

Franny frowned, "Forget that, I haven't even _considered_ yet how we're going to get past that fence! I kind of forgot all about it."

Lewis brought his thumbnail to his lips and chewed on it lightly. He hadn't known there would be a fence, and so hadn't considered how they would get pass it either. Plus, Goob was right. It wouldn't be a matter of just finding a spot and staking the place out. In order to see everything, they were going to have to circle the building all night, which increased the likely hood of getting caught, and would leave them exhausted before the night was even half way done.

"I didn't think this through," Lewis admitted quietly to himself, "Darn it…I just brought us all running here, and I didn't think this through at all."

Goob, overhearing Lewis's mutterings, said, "Don't worry Lewis, we'll think of something. It's not like we don't have time before the bowler hat guy gets here."

It was just as he said this that the East Wing of the hospital, where the kitchen was, as well as a few staff members and patients, and also one pet turtle named Goldfish by a well meaning but humor-illiterate family member, blew up.

5

Bryan heard the screams long before he ever smelled the smoke, and, tossing aside his magazine, he ran to the door and looked out the little window on his door. In the next moment, the fire alarm went off, a loud, deafening WHOOP, WHOOP, WHOOP noise. Bryan looked up and braced for the sprinkler system to go off, but it never did. Through his window he saw staff, orderlies and nurses, going room to room to unlock the doors and evacuate. His and Wilbur's room was the last one at the end of a dead end highway, isolated by being surrounded by restrooms and a supply closet rather than other patient rooms; this combination had always left a lingering smell in the air for them, but had the advantage of at least being quiet at night.

He saw the staff and patients begin to file out, and suddenly felt an intense but irrational fear that they had forgotten about his room, and would leave him there to burn. He sighed in relief as, as the last of the patients were being guided out, some of the nurses pointed at his room, and one of the orderlies, a brunette woman Bryan recognized, headed towards him. She came up to the door with the keys in her hands, fiddled with the lock, and just as the last of the evacuees were out of sight, winked at him.

Bryan watched stunned as the orderly gave him a slight wave before, his door still locked, running off.

"Hey!" Bryan screamed, wondering if she had made some sort of mistake, knowing with a sort of cold terror that she hadn't, "Hey! I'm still in here! Help! Help!"

6

"Oh my God," Franny whispered, her volume level rising as she screamed, "Oh my God!"

Only two minutes had gone by since they had gotten there, and the hospital was on fire. They had felt the heat of the blast from the top of the hill, Lewis was actually knocked onto his butt by the force of it.

Once the noise of the blast was done, and ringing in their ears wore off, that was when the screaming filled the night air.

"Oh god…" Franny whimpered, tears coming to her eyes at the terrible noise as people wailed and screamed and shouted in loud, desperate anger, "Mom…I need my mom…"

"Relax Franny," Goob whispered, his voice shaking too hard to go any higher, though as he saw his friend begin to cry harder, realized she needed to be snapped out of it, and forced his voice to bark out, "Get a grip, chick!"

"Oh, you horrible, horrible thing!" Franny cried back, her eyes drying up as they were replaced with anger, "Didn't you hear them? Some people just _died!_ _Couldn't you hear them!?"_

Lewis sat up and whirled on them, "Guys, stop fighting, we have to go! Wilbur's in there! The note said that rescue wouldn't be coming for him, which probably means he's trapped or something. We have to go find him, before he burns to death!"

This seemed to calm the two children down, though they looked at each other with wary anger. Lewis didn't have time to deal with that though. Wilbur was probably trapped inside, and this Bowler Hat Guy was forcing their hands. None of it made sense, of course. Why this man wanted Wilbur to so badly be with them was beyond Lewis's ability to guess, and he knew that the three of them going in to take Wilbur back was playing right into the madman's games…but it didn't matter. Wilbur was in there, and Lewis was going to get him out.

"_This_ is the right thing to do." Lewis whispered to himself. As the three ran off, looking to squeeze through the gates bars, Lewis decided that it was the truest thing he had ever said.

7

Wilbur laid on the floor and looked blearily at the ceiling, the awkward position the too tight straight jacket had forced his arms into was beginning to hurt; though his injured shoulder had been throbbing since he had first woken up. He wasn't thinking about much. In truth, he wasn't thinking anything. He was listening to the noises outside of running footsteps and barking orders and muffled, frightened voices, without registering exactly what he was hearing or comprehending that it had anything to do with himself. Upon seeing the man with the bowler hat, so up close and personal for the first time in a long time, his mind had shut down due to the overload of conflicting thoughts and memories. He knew the man had stolen something, but he couldn't remember what. Something to do with time…always something to do with time.

The man had told him to think about time, and so Wilbur decided to take his advice. In his head, he decided he was going to count to 100, just to make the time go by. That's it! The time was stolen, Wilbur stole the time, that ungrateful, nasty little creature…

Wilbur blinked, shaking his head slightly. That wasn't right. It wasn't him, he hadn't stolen anyone's time…had he? It had been the bowler hat guy…hadn't it?

Who would Wilbur steal time from?

Blinking back tears, Wilbur decided to count, both to pass the time, and to get his unraveling, ranting mind to shut up. He closed his eyes and began. '_1…2…um…3…'_

Like the noise, Wilbur didn't recognize the smell of smoke, and of course had no idea that the amount of time it would take him to do his slow, stumbling attempt at counting to a hundred, would be the same amount of time that the fire would need to reach his room at near the other end of the hospital, cooking him alive.

'_4…5…6…'_

8

"Ow!" Goob huffed as he finally managed to squeeze through the bars. Thankfully the fire was on the other side of the hospital, but even from there they could feel the heat in the air.

"Shhh," Lewis shushed, keeping a wary eye around, "Keep an eye out, if anyone sees us, they'll force us to evacuate with everyone else."

"Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. We could use the help. How do we get inside?" Franny asked, before saying, "Oh, wait, I see a door over there. Maybe it's unlocked."

"If it's not, I can pick an average lock," Goob said casually, raising an eyebrow as both Franny and Lewis turned to give him what could only be called 'looks'. "What? I read a book on it." this was replied with more 'looks', "Lewis keeps me up most nights. I get bored."

They ran up to the door, which was to their surprise partly open. Lewis went in first, checking around to see if anyone was there before waving Goob and Franny in, who hurried in behind him The shaking from the explosion had nearly destroyed the hospital's plaster ceilings, and bits and pieces of the roof had fallen onto the floor, creating a layer of dirt and suffocating dust, with some dangerous looking lights and loosely hanging wires.

The noise from outside wasn't noticeable until the closing door behind them suddenly made everything quiet. Without the sound of shouts and running and that odd, indescribable sound fire makes, the hallway seemed large and empty in its silence.

"Stay close to me guys," Lewis whispered, almost afraid to disturb the silence.

Apparently the others felt the same, as both of them just nodded, nervously looking around, Goob's bat placed firmly in both hands.

Franny chanced a look at one of the doors, a janitor's closet, noting it's room number, "Guys, I think we're in luck," she whispered, "That's door number 145. The letter said Wilbur's room is 156. We're in the right part of the building.."

"Thank goodness, and the smell of smoke is faint, so the fire is nowhere near us. This might be easier than I thought." Lewis said hopefully, "Follow me."

Careful to avoid the live-wires, the kids quickly moved down the halls, keeping an eye on the door numbers. 146, 147…they reached the end of the hallway, and didn't even have to look at the numbers to know where to go. They could hear someone banging on a door, screaming for help.

"156!" Franny shouted, the silence rule broken now that there was somebody else making a fuss. Because neither Franny nor Goob were anywhere near tall enough, they both looked worriedly at Lewis as he, having to stand on tip-toes, peeked through the window to see who was causing the ruckus, which stopped upon the prisoner noting that someone had heard him, "Is it Wilbur?"

"No," Lewis said, to the three's incredible disappointment. "It's another patient…shoot!" Lewis bit his lip, the smell of smoke filling the air as, outside, the flame got worst. They had no idea where Wilbur was, and though Lewis hated himself for thinking it, he knew that time spent helping someone else would lessen their chances of getting to him in time…

But they couldn't just leave him there, dammit, "The door's locked, we need a key." Lewis said quickly, looking around the hallway in the off chance that the right key would just happen to be lying around, "Maybe there's a key stack in the main lobby…"

"No, that would take too much time," Goob said, looking at Franny as he said quickly, "Do you have a bobby pin?"

"Sure, to keep my bangs back," Franny said, already reaching into her hair and taking it out as she said, "Why?"

Goob didn't bother answering, merely taking the bobby pin and looking at Lewis, "I need to get on your shoulders, it's the only way I'll reach the lock."

Lewis nodded and bent down on one of his knee, to his credit only wincing slightly as Goob crawled up his back and onto his shoulders. Goob ended up being a lot heavier then he looked, and though he felt like his knees might spit apart any second, Lewis managed to lift himself straight as Goon fiddled with the lock.

"I think I can actually get this open," Goob said after a minute of fiddling, "It's a pretty basic bolt, just give me a second-" he was interrupted by the sound of something popping in the distance, like an exploding balloon only ten times louder, and the floor shaking again, causing both Lewis and Goob to fall down. The fire was spreading, and something else had exploded. Whatever it was, had been on their side of the building.

"Oh god, I hope that didn't break the bobby-pin" Goob murmured, heard by no one but himself, as all of their ears deadened themselves temporarily against the noise of the explosion. The smell of smoke had been present the entire time, but now there was a thick, dark layer of it around them. And had it suddenly just gotten hotter?

Lewis and Goob hadn't even noticed Franny had left before she came running back, her eyes wide with panic as she screamed, "All the smoke is coming from outside! I tried to touch the door we came in from, and it was burning! We're trapped inside!" this was followed by a fit of coughing, as the smoke grew steadily thicker around them, "We have to get out of here!"

Whoever was behind the door suddenly started banging on it again, shouting something that they couldn't understand through the thick cement. "Goob, can you still get that lock open?" Lewis shouted.

"Just get me back up there," Goob muttered determinedly, climbing back onto Lewis's shaking shoulder, peering hopefully into the lock. Thankfully the pick had been undamaged by the shaking, and it only took Goob a couple of more frantic seconds before he shouted, "Got it!"

Lewis quickly let Goob down off of his shoulders as Franny pulled open the door to reveal a sweating, trembling blond boy around Wilbur's age.

"Thank you," the teen said shakily, his eyes red from crying, "Jesus, I thought I was going to die!"

"You still might, if we don't find a way out of here," Goob grumbled gloomily, holding his shirt collar up to cover his mouth, hoping to block out some of the smoke.

"Do you know a kid named Wilbur?" Lewis asked desperately, "Do you have any idea if he got out?"

"Wilbur?" the teen murmured with recognition, "Yeah, he's my roommate. He…he freaked out, I think. Really badly. He was fighting the doctors and everything. That's no joke. They…the doctors should have let him out, but, the lady that left me in here gave me this." He brought out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to Lewis, "Said to give it to the next people I saw, which is you guys. I've already read it."

Lewis read the letter and groaned, reading out loud, "Congratulations. You've found Wilbur's room, but no Wilbur, if I am to judge. Tell me, dear children, how far would you go for your friend? Would you go into the belly of hell itself? Because where Wilbur is, that's certainly what it's going to feel like. Ask Bryan about the 'Silent Room'. You can be assured that Wilbur is there. Good luck, children."

"Bryan?" Franny asked.

"Me," the boy, Bryan, stepped in, "The Silent Room is kind of like those padded rooms you see on television, you know? Only way heavy-duty, no furniture, no sharp edges, nothing. It's where the really violent patients go."

"What room number is it?" Lewis asked urgently, knowing there was no time to lose.

"Uh…I don't know." Bryan admitted, "I know where it is though, I saw it once. It's like in the dead middle of the hospital, near where the security room is."

"Could you show us?" Goob asked, "and quickly? We've got to get out of here. I can barely breath in this." He said desperately.

"Get on the floor," Franny suddenly said, dropping onto her belly, "I remember this thing in school, where firemen told us that smoke rises, so it's least thick on the floor! Come on guys! Bryan, you know the hospital, lead the way!"

Bryan nodded reluctantly, getting onto his belly and scooting forward quickly as the others followed behind. As they came to the hallway they had come from, they saw fire at the end of it, hot and real and terrifying. It was spreading fast.

"This way!" Bryan screamed behind him, the noise suddenly all consuming as the building groaned terrifyingly under the damage of the fire. Even though they weren't near the flames, the heat began to scald their skin, like being too close to the sun. They went as quickly as they could in the opposite direction, knowing that the fire was there somewhere too. That didn't matter. They had to get to the middle of the building where Wilbur was. After that, they would just have to find some way out of this insanity.

**Part 2**

0

'_…20…21…22…'_

1

Bryant looked down at the…well, he supposed it could be called a river, and said blandly, "Guys, I appreciate what you did for me, and I don't want to sound like a dick…but you all are jinxed, aren't you?"

"We didn't used to be," Goob replied somewhat defensively, trying not to move too much in case he accidently pushed Bryant or Franny to their highly unusual deaths before finally admitting, "but, lately…pretty much, yeah."

Franny said nothing as she clutched tightly onto the hanging fluorescent light. She had always had a mild fear of heights, but if she had to prioritize, it was the impossible flow of molten lava underneath them that really had her worried.

Below, Lewis was teetering on a lobby couch that was floating amongst the lava, a mop in hand as he kept trying to push himself towards dry land, which was difficult as everything other then the couch was on fire, and he kept having to put out the mop before he could push again. Worst of all, either the couch was sinking, or the lava was rising, but either way, Lewis had a limited amount of time before the lava started lapping at his feet.

Three minutes before, while the four of them had been walking, the ground had started shaking, before parts of the hallway suddenly started to rise. Lewis had jumped off in time, but Franny, Bryan, and Goob had been forced to jump onto one of the hanging fluorescent lights when, whoosh, like the Titanic the floor had cracked in half, and each side was shoved away as a river of lava flowed through. When Lewis had tried to make a sort of escape pole with the mop for the others to slide down on, he leaned in too far and had fallen into the river, thankfully landing on one of the few items floating in it that wasn't on fire. Things had progressed from there, with the inclusion of the fire that had been chasing them creating a semi-circle around them, till only one hallway was open for escape. Unfortunately, it was this hallway that's floor level had risen to the point where getting onto it would require climbing a rather steep wall (this probably being the reason this particular highway wasn't on fire yet).

The randomness of this whole mess was not lost to its participants as Lewis screamed, with frustration and genuine fear for his own sanity, "This is impossible!"

"We'll laugh about it later!" Goob called down reassuringly, past the point of terror to where he was almost disinterested in what was happening around him, "Focus on getting onto land, then we'll try the pole thing again!"

"It won't work!" Lewis called back, wagging the mop furiously to put out the flame, "The mop is too short! That's why I fell in first place!"

Goob shrugged, "Then we'll have to try something else! Still doesn't change the fact that you have to get off of that couch!"

Franny looked up and squeaked, "Uh…guys?!"

The boys looked up and saw that slowly, the ceiling around the bolts that were holding the three up were starting to splinter and crack. It was giving in to their weight. Goob wiped the sweat out of his eyes (because a room full of fire was damn hot), looked down at Lewis and shouted, "You might want to hurry it up!"

Despite its ridiculousness, the scene was in fact terrifying for those involved. The room was boiling, so hot that it was difficult to think, and the sound of the fire was only matched by the terrible pounding of their own hearts in their ears. Every now and then the flame would rise or set out sparks that burnt and blistered their skin, causing sudden, sharp waves of pain that distracted and distressed them while they tried to focus on not making a move that would get themselves or each other killed. There was a distinct sense of hopelessness in all of them as the situation w_as_ impossible, and there was no time to even pray for help, for thinking about anything other than the fire for even a moment would have been the equivalent of suicide.

And all four of them realized at this time, in a way a child should never have too, how desperately, _desperately_ they wanted to live.

"Ow!" Lewis held back a curse, biting his lower lip as some of the couch began to dip to the side, some of the lava brushing against his ankles, "Jesus, that's hot!"

"Yeah, it's lava. It's part of the definition!" Goob shouted down lazily.

"I know lava is hot!" Lewis screamed back up at him, before suddenly looked down at the river in puzzlement, "…in fact…lava should be a lot hotter than this…"

Goob raised an eyebrow at this before his eyes suddenly bulged nearly out of their sockets when another tremor went through the building, and more of the roof they were holding onto began to crack. The light they were on gave a worrying jerk that made them all scream as part of the roof finally gave in, a chunk of it flinging down, though it still overall connected to the roof. The three children held on as the light dipped on its side…

"Aughhhh!"

…and Goob was jostled very nearly over the edge, clinging to the side as he looked down fearfully at the river below him.

Bryan kept a firm hold on Franny, who was having the same problem, and looked up at where the roof had collapsed. The parting ceiling now looked like the gapping jaw of a menacing fish. Inside, he could see a dense darkness that could only possibly be so dark because there was more room inside, meaning the ceiling was hollow. It wasn't exactly safe…and there was no way someone his size could fit through…but the two little ones maybe…

"Go through the hole!" Bryan screamed at Franny, who was trying to pull Goob up from the edge.

She looked back at him, her eyes wide and fearful, "What?!"

There was another terrifying tremor, and Bryan didn't bother explaining. Leaning over, he swiftly grabbed the small black haired boy's hand, pulling him up and, with strength he didn't even know he had, shoved the baffled boy up into the ceiling. The kid disappeared into the darkness of the hole, but it was a good sign that the roof didn't immediately collapse under the kid's weight.

He grabbed the girl to do the same, who grabbed onto his shirt, "What about you!?"

"I'll be fine!" the boy lied, before he pushed her up as well, the small hands of the black haired boy coming out of the darkness to help drag her in, "Don't worry about us! Look for a way out!" he considered this before adding in, in case it wasn't a totally obvious thing to do, "Get help!"

He heard a muffled, "Okay!" and a more clear, "Don't you jerks die!" before hearing the two shuffle off. Looking down, he saw the blond haired boy, his face stony looking to combat the fear and determination to survive, give him a nod of approval.

Despite everything, Bryan actually felt an odd sense of elation. He, like every other person on the planet, had always wondered how he would really act in an emergency. And, just like everyone else at one or another point in their lives, he had always had the nagging, worrying suspicion that he would be one of those people literally clawing other people alive like an animal, trying to survive. To know that he was the type who could still act _human_ at a time like this was…was…

Bryan didn't have time to think about how that was, because a second after this, the roof above him gave in completely, and he fell into the lava.

_2_

_'44…um…why…why is it so hard to think?...where was I?...45…'_

The two boys limped down the hall, Lewis helping to shoulder some of Bryan's weight as the older boy winced every time he had to put any pressure on his injured right ankle.

"I cannot believe it was chili the whole, damn time." Bryan finally muttered, looking down at his clothes, which were covered in the food, in disgust, "Where did it all come from!?"

"It must have all leaked out of the cafeteria when it exploded. I don't know why there was so much of it," Lewis groaned, wincing at the pain in his own body. When Bryan had fallen, it had confirmed what Lewis had suspected: that the lava wasn't lava at all. But, with the fire all around to boil it up, the heat had still turned both Bryan and Lewis-who had jumped in after him when Bryan's leg hit the ground under the chili with a painful THUMP- bright red, and Lewis was concerned that the damage to their skin might be 'degree' bad. With each other's help they had managed to climb up the wall and escape into a relatively fire-free part of the building, and according to Bryan were still heading in the right direction towards Wilbur. Though, in truth, at this point, the boys had no other choice but to head towards the middle of the building, as it was as far as they could tell the only part that wasn't being completely consumed by the flames. They both knew it was only a matter of time before the building's structure collapsed, and even if it didn't and they somehow didn't suffocate under the heavy layer of smoke choking the air around them, after they found Wilbur it wasn't like they had an escape plan.

Lewis had no idea what had happened to Goob and Franny. Going through the roof —though a little better then falling from the ceiling, as their little bodies would probably have been hurt a lot worse than Bryan had be— was still not safe. He kept trying not to think about it too much.

He kept getting the idea that he could smell burning bacon, too, but he didn't think about that either. After all, they had just swam through a river of chili, so it really could just be burning bacon…right?

Right.

3

"We need more hoses on the east wing! Goddamnit, where are the hoses?!" one of the firemen shouted as around him a crowd of people ran to and fro, the heat and level of activity dizzying and alarming.

"They're over at the north!" One of his fellow organizers shouted back, walkie-talkie in hand as he helped an older woman, a visitor for one of the patients, sit down on the curve. Her face was covered in ash as she wept helplessly. Her grandson was a patient. She had yet to spot him in the crowd of evacuees.

"Tell them to send some of theirs to the east then!"

"They can't afford too! There aren't enough hoses for the whole building!" the organizer explained, "Where are the ambulances?! This woman took in a lot of smoke! She needs to be checked out!"

"The hospital is having the same problem we're having, too many people need immediate attention and there's just not enough transport, so they're sending some of the doctors here!" the firemen squinted into the distance, "I think I see them coming now!"

Just as the fireman had said, three ambulances rolled into the area, taking no extra time to open up its doors as ambulance runners and doctors jumped out, some going towards the first person they saw needed help, others heading towards the firemen to see where they were most needed.

Dr. Elliot Reed was the first to get to the organizer. "Where's the heaviest damage coming from?" she demanded, frightened and horrified by the sheer carnage as people moaned and stumbled about all around her, but determined to keep her head as Dr. Cox, one of the top hospital doctors, had lectured to them in the ambulances.

The organizer flinched at a painful memory, "Honestly? At the north part of the hospital, where the fire started; but if any of those people we managed to get out are still breathing, they need priests more than doctors. The damage was…bad."

"I'll judge that," Dr. Reed replied coldly, not liking the idea of giving up on anyone while their hearts were still beating. "Which way is clear?"

"That way, but before you go, could you check out her real quick? Make sure her heart is handling the smoke alright?" the organizer asked, pointing to the old woman, who was still sobbing quietly.

Elliot leaned down by the woman, taking out her stethoscope, "Hi, ma'am? I'm just going to check you out real quick, okay? Remain calm, are you experiencing any pain?"

The woman shook her head pitifully as Elliot listened to her heartbeat, the woman remaining quiet for a moment before whispering, "My grandson is in there somewhere."

Elliot looked up to see the woman pointing at the building sadly before continuing, "I can't prove it, but I know it. I feel it, you know? He's such a good boy. I'm so worried about him…my little Bryan…"

Elliot bit her tongue before beginning to straighten up, "You seem to be alright ma'am, just don't move around too much for a little while, and you'll be fine."

The woman suddenly grasped Elliot's pant leg, looking up at her intensely, "Look around for my boy, will you doctor? Please? He's thirteen, blond, blue eyed. He might be standing with his roommate, a black haired boy the same age, with horrid looking stitches all over his face, the poor thing, looked like fingernail scratches, poor dear, poor Bryan, my little Bryan…"

Elliot blinked slowly before nodding, hurrying off as her mind raced. Stitches, all over his face? It could be just a coincidence, of course, nothing conclusive over the vague description from a disorientated old woman…

But what were the odds of two black haired teens having the exact same horrific accident at the same time in the same city?

"William." Elliot murmured, looking up at the fire with a new sense of oddly personal urgency, "Gabe, Frankie and Lou…are you kids in there?"

The fire roared.

4

"God damn its hot…" Goob huffed as he and Franny crawled through the vents, wincing each time his palm pressed down against the burning metal.

"Of course it's hot, the building is on fire!" Franny growled, the fear and pain shortening her temper. She looked down and suddenly gasped, "Goob…Goob, my knees are bleeding. The vent's ripping off my skin, Goob…oh god why did I wear a skirt…"

Goob couldn't look around to check on her because the size of the vent wouldn't allow it, but now that he thought about it, he realized he could actually smell their own skin burning. It made him want to scream, and the only reason he didn't was because he was aware that if he began to breakdown, he didn't think he would be able to pull himself back together, and Franny didn't need any dead weight right now. Not if they were going to survive this.

And if they wanted to survive, they needed to get out of this damn vent. They were being cooked alive!

Up ahead Goob spotted an opening in the vent, one of those barred ones that allowed the air-conditioning to come out, with those sharp edges that always gave one a vague impression that it could be used as a lethal weapon. Franny apparently spotted it as well as she shouted up to him, "Can we get it open!?" There was a rasp in her voice that worried Goob. The vent was filled with smoke, and the two of them could still barely breathe in it.

"I'll try!" Goob shouted back, crawling to the opening. He couldn't see below the bars, everything was too dark; but, he figured that simply meant that there was no immediate fire below them, else the room would have been lit like, well, like it was on fire. As he had feared, the bars were bolted shut, and Goob had no idea what to do about it. Plus, as he peered down the vent, he realized that the only thing in front of them was a wall: dead end.

"We're gonna die in here…" Goob whispered to himself, a sense of completely raw fear suddenly coming over him like an electric wave, "There's no way out…"

"Goob?"

"What are we going to do?"

"Goob!" Franny shouted,

"What!?"

"Is there anything below us?"

"Not that I can see? Why?"

"I'm about to do something you are r_eall_y not going to like!"

Before Goob could ask what, he heard Franny shift behind him, could hear her lift one of her legs, and with a warrior's cry, brought the foot down on the vent.

The metal, already worn thin from the heat and not made to support two people, collapsed immediately, and they both fell into the darkness.

When Goob hit the ground, he felt all the air in his chest rush out with a terrifying sense of finality, and he ignored the pain in his groaning body as he tried desperately to fill his lungs again. It seemed to take his body a moment to remember _how_ to breathe, and it took what felt like hours to get the process going again. The smoke was no help of course, and when Goob realized his eyes were open, despite the lack of any form of sight, he add the odd sense of being unsure which way was up and which way was down. He carefully placed his hand on the floor, straightened out his body, and put his senses back together.

That's when the pain hit him.

"SHI-AUUGH!" He howled, his body curling into himself involuntarily as he felt waves of deep, soar pain tsunami through his midsection. Eventually remembering why he was in pain in the first place, he called out weakly, "Franny?"

A pained, feminine groan filled the air as Franny shakily called out through the darkness, "Ow…I think I fell on a desk…oh, it hurts…" thankfully, Franny's history of martial arts made her mildly familiar with pain, and she quickly began to recover as she called back, "Are you okay, Goob?"

"No, I'm not okay!" Goob cried, wincing as he shifted onto his knees, trying to straighten himself into a standing position, which was surprisingly difficult to do when you couldn't see your hands or feet, "God, Franny, what were you thinking!? You could have killed us, you stupid chick!"

Any thoughts she might have had on the pain were instantly distracted by this as Franny sat up from the top of the desk she had landed on, crying in outrage, "Stupid chick!? I just saved our lives, _Michael_! We were about to suffocate in that _vent_, in case you didn't notice!"

Goob staggered up, looking for a wall and eventually finding out as he mimed around for a light switch or door, "You could have warned me! Would that have been too much to ask? A 'Hey, heads up Goob, I'm about to hurtle us into a gapping, smoking darkness' would have been nice!" he found a doorknob and whipped it open. He wasn't surprised to see the room, an office, suddenly flooded with light as a raging fire burned down the hall. It was amazing the things you get used too.

Franny carefully crawled off the desk as she growled, "You would have tensed! The body has a twenty percent higher possibility of getting seriously injured if all of the person's muscles are tensed. It was better you didn't know…Goob? Goob, don't you walk away from me, boy!"

"Then keep up!" Goob shouted back as he walked out into the hall, actually walking around bits and patches of fire, "We can't just sit around, we have to either find Lewis or Wilbur or get the heck out of here! Man, how'd I get saddled with a broad?"

Franny scowled, finally losing her temper as she ran in front of Goob as stopped him, the fire burning around them like an audience at an arena as she shoved him backwards shouting, "Oh, no, not this time! Don't even try that sexist stuff this time, bub, you only ever talk like that when you're mad at me! What's wrong, huh, what did I do this time!?"

Goob had to stop himself from shoving back as his hands wrapped into balls, only to keep himself from grabbing the baseball bat firmly attached to his back, "What, throwing us off the roof isn't a good enough reason to be mad at you?!"

"No! Because it was a good idea, and you're a smart kid, and you _know it was a good idea!_" Franny screamed, stepping into Goob's personal bubble. "You've been mad at me for some reason practically since the day you met me, and I'm sick of it! Oh, sure, you can be nice sometimes, but it's like everything will be fine, and then all of the sudden you remember something I did, and then you get all rude and snippy again. What did I do?!!"

"NOTHING!" Not able to help himself, Goob shoved Franny away from him, knocking her down. She shouted, first in surprise that he would actually return the aggression, and then in pain as her palm brushed against some burning ashes. Pulling it back quickly, she sucked in a breath of pain, this time too much as her eyes grew misty at the burn, her hand turning a frightening red color. Cradling her injured hand, she looked up at Goob, who was staring down at her, wide eyed as he stuttered, "I…I-I didn't mean…you shoved first...I…Augh!"

Frustrated and upset at both her and himself, he did a very stupid thing and ran off while she still laid on the ground, disappearing as he turned the corner. Franny, wiping the tears away, considered just letting him go and going back into the office, where the fire still hadn't gotten, and waiting for help to arrive.

Suddenly, out of her pocket, Frankie peeked out his head, much to Franny's shock, who had completely forgotten she had brought the little frog along. Frankie looked up at her with tired eyes, before, in subtle ways that only Franny would notice, he jerked his head towards where Goob had run off too before rolling its eyes.

'_Boys, huh?_' the exasperated frog's expression said.

"Oh Frankie," Franny whispered, tears dripping down her cheeks and evaporating before they could even hit the floor, "What do I do?"

Frankie seemed to consider this, looked at his master, looked at the corner, and then back at his master, before sighing.

Then he jumped out of her pocket, and bounded away where Goob had run off to.

A horrified Franny watched this a moment before getting up and running after him, "Frankie, come back, you'll get hurt! The fire's bad, Frankie, the fire's bad!"

Frankie, who had never seen a fire before in his life, wasn't too impressed by it or it's 'badness', and simply continued hopping as it spotted Goob, who was standing dead still, apparently locked in a conundrum of how far behind he could really leave his friend when it came to a burning-down building. Frankie, needing to catch the kid's attention, jumped up real high, and bit Goob's finger.

"Augh!" Goob shouted, "What? Get off! Get off!" Goob shouted, whirring his hand back and forth as Frankie kept firmly on, shutting his jaw even harder.

Franny, seeing Goob trying to throw Frankie around, ran faster, shouting, "You leave little Frankie alone, you meanie-head! He didn't do nothing to you!" She ran up to Goob and ripped Frankie off his finger, cuddling the frog to her chest as she babbled, "Are you okay, Fwankie-Wankie?"

Goob growled as he cradled his own throbbing finger, "You're little 'Fwankie' just tried to eat me!"

Franny rolled her eyes as she shoved the frog back in her pocket, "Oh, you're exaggerating. You just don't like Frankie! And you don't like Frankie because you don't like me!"

"I never said that!" Goob growled in frustration, "When did I say that!?"

Franny's eyes narrowed at him, "You _said_ it when you left me in a _fire_ back there!"

Goob recoiled, as if being physically punched, "I-I didn't leave you! I expected you to follow after me! And I don't hate you! You…you just make me so mad sometimes…"

"Why do I make you mad?" She demanded, sick and tired of this unanswered question, "What did I do?"

"You're just…" Goob struggled to find the right words, and finally settled on the ones he had grown used too, "You're such as _stupid girl!_"

That was it. The last straw. Franny let out a yell that was remarkably similar to the one she had shouted back when she had kicked open the vent, and tackled Goob to the ground, "Stop! Saying! That!" She screamed as she wrestled the boy, too angry to use her martial arts as she tried to bang him against the cement.

Goob, only momentarily startled, kicked her off, and as she flew back rushed to his feet, and made a bad decision. He upped the ante by taking the bat off of his back and placing it in swinging mode in his hands, getting into a batting position as he said, dangerously stoic, "No."

Franny looked at him wide-eyed for a moment before getting up herself, wiping some ash from her mouth as she replied back, her voice acid with anger, "Fine, if you don't want to talk about this _civilly,_" she brought her hands out in straight, karate-like movements before putting her feet in a starting combat position, putting out of her mind the fire that surrounded them, flaming high and roaring, like great god's looming treacherously on their holy grounds, basking their light on their favored warriors, as she hissed, "Then I'll _beat_ the answer out of you!"

Goob didn't even blink as he said simply, "Try it."

She did.

5

_'73…74…'_

6

"Bryan, are you okay to walk?" Lewis asked weakly, his breath coming out in little huffs as he chocked out, "Cause I don't think I can carry you any farther."

Bryan nodded just as weakly as he rasped, "I know, I know, I don't even see the fire anymore, but the smoke is thickest here. I can barely breath too." He murmured, though he obligingly got off of Lewis's shoulder, limping carefully on his right foot as the two of them took it slow. They knew they really didn't have the luxury to move so carefully, as while they couldn't see the fire, they knew it was quickly catching up with them. It would probably burn down the wall separating them within the minute…but they were both injured and exhausted, and couldn't go faster without proper, immediate motivation.

And then Bryan looked at the wall, and there the motivation was.

"CA…CA!" He cried, looking at the sign held on the wall, before looking around wildly, "Lewis, this is it, this is the place, where the silent room is! Wilbur is somewhere around here!"

"What?!" Lewis cried, instantly feeling more alert as he too looked around, half-expecting Wilbur to just step out of a shadow, "Where? Where is he?"

"Um…" Bryan faltered a bit, "The security room is that way, I'm sure…so the silent room is just down this hall, come on!"

The boys raced down as quickly as their battered bodies could, Bryan leading the way as they went down the hall. Off in the distance they saw a flickering light that suggested, as they had both feared, that the fire really was coming from all directions, but just as quickly Bryan spotted a door…_the_ door.

"That's it!" Bryan shouted triumphantly, not even that close to Wilbur, but after spending the last ten minutes crawling through a burning building, was glad for any bit of good fortune that came their way, "It's that door, right there!"

"You sure?" Lewis said nervously. The door didn't have a window, and looked somewhat heavy, nowhere near as easy to break into as Bryan's room was. Which didn't matter anyway, as Goob wasn't there to pick the lock. How were they going to get him out?

As Lewis considered this, he ran towards the door and banged on it, pressing his ear to the door as he shouted, "Wilbur? Wilbur, are you in there? Wilbur!?"

7

Inside, Wilbur heard banging, and a muffled voice, and feeling very tired closed his eyes and tuned it out.

'_79…80…81…_'

8

"I don't hear anything," Lewis groaned, looking at the door in fear before turning to Bryan, "Are you absolutely sure he's in this room? The fire will be here any minute, we don't have time to be messing around."

Bryan bit his lip before nodding, "I'm sure. I'm totally sure…" he hesitated, "Pretty much."

Lewis heard the cackling of the fire and looked around. The fire had followed them down the hall as he had feared it would, and the fire on the other side was spreading quickly. There was no time left.

"Fine, fine, we need to get it open!" Lewis shouted over the cackling, turning to Bryan, "Do you think maybe the security office might have the key?"

Bryan nodded, "Security had a key to every room, and I bet their office is unlocked too. No sense in locking the door when the building's falling down around you." He said this with a sense of urgency, subtly reminding Lewis of their situation, as if the blond needed a reminder.

"Stay here, I'll be right back!" Lewis told Bryan before running down the hallway, back to where he had seen the security office door next to the CA sign. It was a little disorienting, running towards the fire, and he had to fight his instincts as he headed towards the door, feeling the burning already as even just the air around the fire sizzled in heat.

To Lewis's relief, the security door was unlocked, and he quickly ran inside. The fire would soon be joining him, so Lewis wasted no time looking around. Not seeing any keys hanging from the wall, he went to the chairs that sat by the screen projectors, saw that the screams all stood on a filing cabinet, and began to open the drawers wildly. After a moment, afraid that he wouldn't find anything and all of this would be for nothing, he opened a drawer to see a huge ring of keys, the type you would see on a janitor. Not even allowing himself a moment to get excited, he grabbed the keys and ran out, the fire singing his pants as he ran back to Bryan, who was sitting next to the door, looking ready to pass-out as the pain of his leg caught up with him in his moment of rest.

Bryan looked at the keys in Lewis's hands, and said, "Dude, I have no idea." He then looked at the approaching flamed and said, "but you better hurry and try them until one fits, or we're all roast beef."

Lewis, realizing Bryan was right, went up to the lock and took the first key out, whispering to himself, "Please, please…"

The key went in, but didn't turn.

He tried the next.

The fire approached.

9

'_84…85…was that Lewis's voice?...of course not…86…'_

**Part Three**

0

Because sometimes Lewis had the devil's luck, it ended up being the third key he tried that opened the door.

"Oh thank god!" Bryan shouted, and Lewis looked over at him just in time to see the older boy literally sag with relief before his skin tightened again, eye alight with the fire as he looked behind them and said with a frightened certainty, "Open it, open it, the fire's coming! Our path out of here is going to close any second!"

Lewis looked to where his new friend was looking to see that Bryan was right, and the previously clear hallway was quickly starting to catch the same bastard disease the rest of the building had caught. The only hallway available to go down now would quickly become unavailable...and Lewis tried not to think about the very strong possibility that even if they _did_ manage to get down the hallway, there wouldn't just be a fiery dead end, with nowhere else left to go...

'_One problem at a time_,' Lewis told himself sternly, taking a smoky breath before opening the door.

It was almost shockingly dark inside; the type of dark that, while your eyes are adjusting, almost looks solid, like you're looking at a wall painted black. After being surrounded by the terribly bright light of the fire for so long, the blackness was almost painful, and Lewis actually winced away from it. Thankfully it only took a second for Lewis's eyes to adjust, though what he saw made him gasp aloud as he shouted, "Wilbur!"

To say Wilbur looked awful is a gross understatement: the boy was bound, gagged, and laying on the floor with his usually perfect hair a mess and his eyes glazed and distant. Muttering to himself behind the contraption that bound closed his jaw, he showed no notice of the sudden light in the room, or Lewis's sudden appearance. One of Wilbur's stitches had broken, and blood was trickling down his forehead, and Lewis didn't like the way he was laying on his previously injured shoulder, though it had probably healed by now. Lewis had called Wilbur crazy many, many times since he had first met the boy but, even including the day he scratched up his own face, he had never looked as insane as he did now.

Lewis immediately ran to Wilbur's side, only fumbling with the face mask for a second before managing to rip it off, being careful of the stitches. Once the mask was off, Wilbur took in some deep gulps of breath, but still didn't look at Lewis, didn't acknowledge anything was different, and continued muttering to himself, "90...91....92..."

"Wilbur?" The hair on Lewis's arms rose as he was suddenly strangled by a growing sense of panic, not liking the way the usually lively, irritating boy wouldn't even look at him. He shook the older boy, "Snap out of it, please! Wilbur, it's me, Lewis! We have to go!"

From the doorway, Bryan was watching the fire, body language prepared to run as he tried to stare down the fire, sweat pouring down his brow as he shouted, "Lewis, the fire's coming! Hurry up!"

Wilbur was unconcerned by this, his sleepy eyes blinking miserably as he whispered on, "95...96..."

Lewis, unfortunately, didn't have a pleasant shield of insanity to keep him from understanding death was coming as, tears springing to his eyes from both fear and frustration, he shook Wilbur again, "Wilbur, please get up, there's no time to carry you! What's wrong with you!?"

"Lewis!" Bryan shouted, "I…I think we're past the point of a safe exit…!"

"He's out of it, help me drag him!"

"97...98..."

"There's no time! Lewis, I-I have to close the door, the fire's gonna get inside!"

"You can't! We'll die in here! Wilbur, get up!"

"99..." Wilbur smiled, sighed, "100." And it was just as he said this that his eyebrows hitched, the sleepy, dazed look in his eyes replaced with clear clarity, and soon he was looking up at Lewis in nothing short of bafflement, "Lewis? What are you doing here?"

Bryan slammed the door shut, encasing them all in darkness. There was probably a light switch somewhere, but this brought no comfort to Lewis, who stared into the darkness in stunned defeat. They had failed. They were in the middle of a building that was burning down. The fire was surrounding them. There was literally nowhere else to go.

They hadn't managed to save Wilbur, Lewis realized with dreaded certainty. All Lewis and Bryan, and probably Franny and Goob as well, had managed to do was join him in his grave.

1

If fire could think, and could recognize its fellow fire, it would have mistaken the two children fighting amongst it as one of its own.

Its mistake would have partly been in the noises they make; a fire can cackle, and spit, and roar, as did these children, who screamed and spat and grunted as blow landed upon blow. The way they rose and fell and rose again reflected their dimming and brightening flaming neighbors, who could hang low to the ground or rise so high as to scorch the ceiling.

But, the biggest resemblance the first had to its little visitors, was that everything it touched, it _hurt_.

Goob wasn't landing a lot of blows, Franny being much faster than him and trained to dodge such attacks, but the few he did were powerful, and he saw her slowing down. This did little to comfort him, as though her blows didn't have much power behind them, she landed swiftly and often, and soon his entire body was covered in light bruises that were beginning to ache terribly. His right eye hurt like hell, and he was pretty sure it would become a lasting black eye; but the real thing that concerned him was that half of his vision was gone as the lid was swelling shut.

Goob's only real comfort was, according to her limp where he had clipped her with his bat, and her increasingly guarded posture, was that he was giving as good as he got.

He was aware of these thoughts only in the vaguest way. Despite what you may hear, fighting actually doesn't leave much time for personal reflections.

Franny was screaming something. Goob struggled to focus on the sound of her voice, and eventually his mind deciphered the nouns.

"Why do you hate me!?" Franny screamed. Something was coming down her cheeks, bright red, and for a second Goob was scared he had cut her. Then he realized it was tears, reflecting the light of the fire.

Goob's concern over this was nullified when, in a rage, Franny picked up a piece of the fallen ceiling and threw it at him. Tears ruined her aim, but only barely as it whizzed by his head.

"I don't hate you!" Goob shouted back, wiping the sweat away from his eyes. So hot…it was so hot… "I just…you just… you didn't recognize me!" he ran after her and swung his bat down, only hitting cement as she jumped back, the vibrations of the blow shaking his body. He felt an insane amount of pride though as he ducked down just in time to avoid her high kick.

"Recognize you? What are you talking about?!" Franny backed away quickly, in case Goob tried to take another swing.

Goob panted for breath, and to his shame he felt his voice waver and tighten as he choked out, "You just came up to us…just came and said, Hi…I'm Franny…like I wouldn't know! I couldn't believe it…I had to introduce myself to you!!" Suddenly he threw his bat down, the bat colliding with the tiles with such force that the plaster actually cracked under the blow. "How could you have forgotten me!?!"

Tired, hurt, and completely drained, Goob fell to his knees and covered his eyes, humiliated by his own tears. Franny stood over her fallen opponent, and felt sick. Because, suddenly, she did recognize him. It was seeing him cry that had sparked the memory, and she felt like such a stupid, selfish fool as she whispered to him…

"…Mikey?"

2

Three years ago, the world was a very different place. At least it was for Michael "Mikey" Yagoobian anyway.

For one, three years ago he was a newly minted six year old, having proudly graduated from kindergarten to the first grade, a world of big kid business, where for the first time an adult would talk to him without sounding slightly drunk as they struggled not to use baby-talk to his 'adowable wittle chubby-wubby face'. Sure, as a first grader he had sacrificed nap-time and snack-time, and Mikey could admit he missed with a keen fondness the mats the kindergartners had usually sat in, replaced with large, wooden desks that were much too big for the still underdeveloped Mikey; but he had been warned of these losses before he had graduated, and felt he was handling them fairly well.

As he sat at the edge of the playground though, playing absentmindedly with the dirt on his sneakers, not noticing or caring that the sun was burning his neck in his hunched over stillness, he just wished that someone would have warned him that going to the first grade, for him at least, meant not sacrificing just nap-time and snack-time and mats, but mothers and homes and friends as well.

This was Mikey's third day at his new school, and he had yet felt the drive to go and actually meet any of his fellow classmates. The teachers had, of course, made an effort to introduce the 'poor little thing' to the other children, and some of the children, intrigued by his newness, had made an effort to introduce themselves to him, but his still face and unrelenting quietness had made their endeavors useless, and soon he found himself undisturbed by both teachers and students, left to his own devices. Which Mikey liked just find.

Mikey, at six years old, didn't know he was depressed. He didn't understand why the world seemed like such a duller, tasteless place. He missed his mother terribly, of course, but he had lost his father years ago, and after going through what his guidance counselor at the time had called the 'grieving process', he didn't remember the world feeling so…useless to him. He couldn't, for the life of him, think of a reason, any reason, to do anything at all. In class he stared at the assignments handed out to all the students and realized with a sudden clarity that he really didn't care what five times six was, or how America was founded. During lunch time he looked at the food and felt no desire to eat, hunger lost in his growing disinterest with the world, and even the sweetest cupcake tasting dull and unsatisfying on his tongue. He was vaguely aware that he was a lot skinnier then he used to be, and his teeth were starting to get a weird, achy feeling. He didn't think it mattered.

Nothing, to six year old Mikey, without nap-time and maps and mommy, mattered much at all.

It was then, while Mikey stared out into the world with such great disinterest in it and everything inside of it, did a young girl decide, after a moment's consideration, that this skinny new kid was glaring directly at her, and was not going to have with it any longer, and went over to tell him so.

And that was the first time Goob met Franny.

"What's your problem!?" Franny frowned at him, putting her hands on her non-existent hips like she saw her mother do whenever she was mad at father. Then, because six would prove to be a snotty, hot-tempered year for the girl, continued on nastily, "Can I _help_ you?"

Mikey looked up at this girl, who was sneering down at him, and for the first time in weeks felt an emotion. It was annoyance. "What's _your_ problem?" Mikey muttered back, still fiddling with his shoes, "I'm just sitting here."

"You've been giving me a very mean look," Franny accused, "You looked like this," She then scrunched up her face hard, trying to mirror his glare, cheeks red with the effort.

Now Mikey really was glaring at her as he growled, "Go away," then, remembering a word his mother once called someone over the phone, continued vehemently, "bitch."

Franny, who had never heard that word before but knew a bad word when she was called it, hissed, "Ooh! I'm telling the teacher! Mrs. Kenny is going to tell your parents what you said, and then you'll be in trouble!"

"No she can't," Goob grumbled darkly, "I don't have any parents."

There was a long moment's pause as Franny looked at him, not with horrified pity, but clear confusion. The girl had never heard of someone not having parents before either. "What do you mean? Of course you have parents, or you wouldn't be here. Mommy told me you need both a mommy and a daddy to make a baby." She explained, feeling proud to have caught the rude boy in a lie.

"Stupid!" Mikey barked, "I _had_ parents! I lost them!"

There was another long moment's pause as Franny considered this thoughtfully before asking, "Well, where did you put them?"

Mikey blinked at the dirt before looking up at the girl, momentarily thrown for a loop, "What?"

Franny rolled her eyes, arms over her chest, "Well, if you lost your parents, where did you last put them? If you can remember that, we can go retrace your steps and find them. That's how I found my shoes this morning." She proudly pointed to her shoes, proving that she had indeed found them using this method.

Then, Mikey felt the second emotion he had felt in weeks: laughter.

He snorted into his hands, and once that little burst of laughter was out, felt himself laughing more, his chest growing heavy from the blows of his ribs, but everything else, his mind, his bones, his heart, lightening up as he laughed at this silly girl, who looked at him in exasperated confusion.

"What?" She demanded, "Is there something in my nose?" And though she was angry, she discovered for the first time, and not the last, that Mikey's laughter had a special quality; it was infectious, and soon she found herself giggling too.

In the middle of their giggle fit, Franny's friends, who had been waiting impatiently for her to get back, started to shout to her, "Franny, hurry up already!"

"Hush up, I'm talking to…what's your name?" Franny asked the odd, parentless kid. When he, almost shyly, told her, she continued, "I'm talking to Mikey! Hold your horses!"

"Just bring him with you, we want to start playing already!" One of the friends called back.

Franny rolled her eyes at her friends' impatience before turning to Mikey, "You wanna play? We can look for your parents later."

Mikey didn't feel like explaining to this odd girl that his parents were the kind of lost you couldn't find again, and instead asked, somewhat hesitantly, "Well…what are you playing?"

At this, Franny gave him a big, wide grin that made Mikey feel a little funny, like wanting to laugh again and being suddenly too self-conscious to do so, as she said simply, "Baseball."

3

Mikey and Franny continued on to be the best of friends for most of the first grade, Mikey's depression slowly waning away under the force of Franny's persistent call to attention, to the point where Mikey found himself not thinking about his parents at all for weeks at a time. While their classmates found new 'best friends' every other week or so, he and Franny were steadfast in their loyalty to each other, spending every lunch period together, every recess together, and were even each others' valentines in February, for which they suffered no end of teasing from their friends for. Mikey found life could be interesting again, and started pursuing it again with the energy any six year old should have.

Things were perfect, until his foster parents decided they couldn't do it anymore.

Mikey told Franny he was moving away only three days before he was gone, because he only knew three days before he was gone that he was going. For the last three days, anyone casually watching wouldn't have known there was anything wrong. It took a trained eye, who knew them well, to notice the way they lingered in the hallway before going, often late, to class, or the way their recess was now full with almost manic chatter while their lunchtime had grown unnaturally quiet.

And then, three days came and went, and it was only during their last ten minutes together, as they waited for the bus's to come and take them away from school to different neighborhoods, in their last moment together, did one of them finally cry.

It was Franny who started to sob, almost seven years old and losing something dear for the first time in her life. She hugged a quiet Mikey and didn't make any promises, didn't say anything, just cried and cried because she knew, in her heart of hearts, that she wasn't going to see him again. Mikey just held her.

They didn't exchange numbers. It didn't occur to them to do so, and would have been useless anyway. Six year olds expressed themselves through contact and play; they wouldn't have been able to remain friends with nothing but verbal contact.

Mikey said goodbye and left on his bus, went to the very middle seat where he was least likely to be disturbed, and allowed himself to cry silently into his backpack.

He would meet the next day a woman named Mildred, who would put him in the same room with the building's weirdest occupant, Lewis. His name would, at this meeting, change from Mikey to Goob. Eventually, he would get to the point where he didn't think about Franny too much, and would eventually stop thinking about her all together for years.

But for that bus ride, he felt a grief that reflected a grief he had felt twice before; once for daddy, once for mommy, and now once for Franny.

Is it really hard to see why he was so heartbroken when, seeing her two years later when she moved in just down the street, and he started to walk up to her, overjoyed only to have her look at him…and then past him. Not even a flicker of recognition.

For awhile Goob had himself convinced that he must have the wrong Franny, that this hauntingly familiar girl with the same name probably wasn't the girl who he had spent all of first grade with, who had made the sun shine again for a miserable six year old who had just lost everything in one fell swoop. But as time passed, he realized more and more that it w_as _her…she just didn't recognize him. There were many times he fantasized just introducing himself, gently reminding her who he was…but found himself both too embarrassed and too angry at her to do so. How could she forget him? What had happened to that girl who had sobbed on his shoulder when he was leaving? Had she really cared so little?

Stupid…stupid girl!

And then, the icing on the cake had come the day they had found Wilbur in the hole, and it was raining, and they had needed help so badly… and Franny had just shown up, because that was what she did: she showed up, just when she was needed most, and for a moment Goob dared to think she remembered him after all, and had just been waiting for the right moment to talk to him again.

He had kept this hope until she had looked directly at him, Wilbur saved and this being a perfect moment for her to give him that big, bright smile of hers and say, "Hey Mikey."…only to turn from him to Lewis.

She had barely looked at him. She was only interested in Lewis. And, for the fourth time in his life, Goob's heart broke…Mom, Dad, Franny…and then Franny again.

And now she dared to look at him, eyes wide and wet with shock as she whispered, "…Mikey?"

To which an exhausted Goob, who had dreamed of this moment of recognition, could only bring himself to say, "It's 'bout bloody time."

Tears were now freely flowing down Franny's face as she whispered, "Oh, Mikey…Mikey, I'm so sorry…I…"

"Don't bother," Goob grumbled, pushing her away before standing up, brushing the ash from his shirt uselessly, "We were little…it was stupid of me to think you'd remember me after two years."

"God, Mikey…Goob, I just…I remember you, of course I remember you!" Franny pleaded, ignoring the fire around them, the crumbling walls, "I just…didn't recognize you. I'm so sorry, but…if you recognized me, why didn't you say anything!?"

"I didn't want to embarrass myself, why else!?" Goob shouted back, picking his bat back up and strapping it back to his back, "What would you have done?!"

"What would I have done!?" Franny gaped, wiping the tears from her eyes as, furiously, she walked up to him and grabbed his collar, "You idiot! You were important to me! Do you have any idea how much I…I missed you so bad after you left! If I had recognized you, I would have…I would have done…well, _this_!"

And it was when she kissed him, just a firm press of her lips against his, a first for them both, that the walls finally gave in around them.

4

Thankfully, even in the dark it only took Lewis a couple of minutes to work out the puzzle that was Wilbur's straightjacket, and soon the older boy was free, sitting up clear headed and relatively unharmed other then the broken stitching and a couple of new bruises only Wilbur was aware of. After that, there was nothing really to do other then sit and talk, which they did.

Wilbur was completely confused as Lewis carefully, in a hopeless, dead-pan voice, explained exactly what kind of predicament they were in.

"So…the Bowler Hat Guy set the hospital on fire?" Wilbur gapped, completely stunned. They had failed to find the light switch, and so the three boys sat in the dark room, the heat rising to an almost unbearable level, though they had no choice other than to bare it. Lewis didn't know what the walls and the door were made of, but they were clearly reinforced, as the fire had yet to break through.

Still, it was only a matter of time.

"Pretty much, yeah." Lewis explained, sighing . God, it was hot, "I think it was supposed to be some sort of test. We were supposed to save you, well, me, Franny and Goob anyway. Bryan just kind of accidently got caught up in this whole mess…sorry Bryan."

"It's alright," Bryan muttered from the dark. It wasn't, of course; they were all about to die. But it wouldn't help anything to bring that up, and Bryan was too tired to waste that sort of energy.

"Where exactly are Franny and Goob?" Wilbur asked, concerned, "They didn't get caught in the fire did they?"

Lewis shrugged, despite knowing no one could see him do it, "Who knows. Last we saw them they were in the vents. Hopefully they got out in time."

"I still don't understand who this bowler hat guy is," Bryan spoke up, "What the hell did you guys do to get him this ticked off at you?"

"You'd have to ask Wilbur about that." Lewis said simply, "Until yesterday, I didn't even believe the Bowler Hat Guy existed. Now that I know he does, I can't even begin to guess what his problem is." After a pause, Lewis said seriously, "Wilbur…I think it's time you told me the story of this guy."

"You won't believe me," Wilbur pointed out miserably.

"Probably not," Lewis agreed plainly, "but we're in a very bad situation here, and in case…in case we don't get out, I at least want to know one version of why this is happening to us. So, spill. Don't hold anything back. I mean it Wilbur."

There was a moment of silence before Wilbur sighed, "Fine. Just…don't interrupt until I'm done, okay, no matter how crazy it sounds?"

"Fine." Lewis agreed.

So Wilbur took a deep breath, and told him everything. He told him about the future, about his long, extended family and their happy, weird life in the mansion they all shared. He spent a particular amount of time on his robot, "You'd love him Lewis, he's such a funny guy! There's this trick he can do with a bunch of his mini-clones-"

"Wilbur," Lewis said, "We don't have much time."

Lewis could hear Wilbur gulp before continuing. "Right…well, anyway."

He told him about his father, who was the future's main inventor, and who would go on to create time machines. He told him, shame-faced, about leaving the garage door open, and the Bowler Hat Guy's ease in stealing the most important invention in history. He explained taking the second time machine to follow the Bowler Hat Guy, who led him to this time era, and Wilbur knowing as soon as he saw the date exactly where the Bowler Hat Guy would be heading.

"Okay," Lewis interrupted, forgetting his vow of silence, "But why did you know he was coming after me? What do I have to do with you and this Bowler Hat Guy?"

"Because…"Wilbur paused, struggling with how he was going to put this, "Because, Lewis…you're the most important inventor in all of the future. And I think for some reason the Bowler Hat Guy is trying to sabotage that."

Lewis blinked into the dark, brows furrowed, before saying carefully, "But I thought _your dad_ was the most important inventor. Father of the Future and all that, isn't he?"

"Yeah…" Wilbur agreed weakly, "Yeah…you are."

There was a very long, pregnant pause. Wilbur stared into the darkness in the direction he was fairly sure Lewis was in anxiously, knowing this wasn't going to settle well. After way too long in silence, Wilbur called out hesitantly, "…Lewis?"

"You think I'm your father!?"

Bryan suddenly burst into laughter, snorting in the dark as he chuckled, "Congrats on fatherhood, dude! I'd pass you a cigar, but I'm just short of them right now." Then he continued laughing, because, when you're stuck in a room that's about to fill with fire with two relative strangers with Springer-worthy issues, what else was there to do?

Lewis found the situation much less amusing, "Wilbur, how can you think I'm your father!? This is…you said your father's name is Cornelius!"

"You changed your name when you were eighteen," Wilbur explained weakly, "Lewis, please calm down…"

"Calm down!? How can I calm down!? Wilbur, you're a year older than me, and just accused me of being your father! That's-!"

"Lewis, please don't call me crazy again!" Wilbur begged. The desperation in Wilbur's voice shut Lewis up, but he was still reeling under this new insanity. Wilbur thought Lewis was his father…what was he supposed to do with that information?

"Who's the mother?" Bryan asked casually, finding this conversation much more engaging then their impending doom, which before this was all he had been able to think about.

There was a moment of silence as Wilbur seemed to actually consider this, confusion in his voice as he whispered, "…Mom?"

"No, no, I don't want to know, that can be saved for later." Lewis interrupted, hoping there _was_ a later, "I still don't understand what all of this has to do with Bowler Hat Guy. Who _is_ he?!"

"I…I don't know." Wilbur confessed, "I have no idea who he is. When I came to the science fair, I was kind of hoping you would know, Da-"

"Don't call me that," Lewis spat, feeling immediately ashamed of himself as he corrected himself, "I mean…sorry, I just can't handle that right now. Give me some time to wrap my mind around it first."

"Better hurry, Dude," Bryan whispered, "Do you hear that?"

It took them both a moment to notice what Bryan was talking about, but they were both silent as they realized they could hear the fire again. Reinforced or not, the walls were thinning.

It wouldn't be long before the fire got through.

Despite his anger, fear won out and, desperate for any sort of comfort, Lewis whispered, "Come here Wilbur." Wilbur quickly scrambled over, feeling relief as Lewis put one arm around him, holding him tightly out of a protective nature he had developed for Wilbur in these last crazy few weeks, and out of terror for their hopeless situation.

In the corner, Bryan whispered as well, as if the fire would get their quicker if it knew they were in there, "Um…could I get in on that? Not that I think you're my father, but…"

"Come on." Lewis offered, and just as quickly Bryan shifted over, pressing in tightly, gripping without embarrassment Lewis's hand. There was no time for embarrassment, no time for much of anything as the boys pressed in tight together despite the heat, banning together against the fire that would soon break into the room and consume them.

5

Saint Anne's Asylum was dying.

Everything lived in its own way, because during the whole of existence, everything has some sort of experience, some sort of story worth telling. And _every_ story is worth telling.

So, before the walls burns to ashes and the building is declared ruined and torn down, replaced by some new building with its own story, let's take a moment away from the story of the children inside, and talk about the story St. Anne's Asylum.

The building was built when the government stopped funding asylums, which used to be used for those who couldn't take care of themselves and no one else was around to do it. While mostly used for the insane, it also housed the homeless, and the occasional unfortunate elderly. When the old asylums were closed down fifty years ago, a man named Peter Pertenson used his considerable wealth to start an asylum himself.

He named it after his wife, Anna Pertenson, who suffered from late-in-life paranoid schizophrenia. Because of his wealth he was able to properly take care of Anna until she died of old age at the age of eighty-three, but Peter knew there were other Anna's who were not so lucky. This knowledge inspired his desire to create this asylum, and funded not just one, but five different asylums in five different cities, each with different names and varying levels of success. St. Anne's was the last asylum scheduled for construction.

He added 'Saint' to the title, because his wife had been given that title from an eternally grateful mother who Anna had, before her disease had taken her mind, helped midwife to life a baby entrapped in a troubled birth. Thanks to her help, the baby had been born alive and well, and the grateful mother had repeatedly said, "You're a saint…the Lord has sent me a saint…!"

So the original concept for the asylum was so that people, who had no other help, could get help here. Peter Pertenson died before he could see the Asylum come to life, but the funds had already been put in, and the asylum was continued regardless. Despite its original intent, it's investors, who inherited the asylums, quickly sold it's finished format to the government, who used to it to house both the criminally insane, and people willing to pay to keep disturbed loved ones there. Thus the asylum was perverted from its original intent, and some people, those inclined to superstition or alternative spirituality, believed that this was the reason the asylum failed to cure so many of its patients.

Then the idea went to the designer, Frank C. Baker, who had been instructed to build a simple, safe environment for people who both needed help, and didn't necessarily want to be there.

Frank was a tad depressed at the time, and not really interested in the project beyond its pay, and so did a simple, boring design of the building, merely boxes and hallways, cold and impersonal even on paper. This design would have probably made it through editing and would have been the asylum we know today, had Frank not had a sort of epiphany the night before he was supposed to turn it in.

That night Frank was looking at his design, frustrated, knowing that the work was mediocre, and dealing with the fact that, lately, all of his work was mediocre. He just couldn't find the will to _care_ anymore. While he had been fascinated by the richness and culture of buildings as a child and teenager, becoming a man in the profession had led to, not works like the Eifel Tower or The Opera House, but filings rooms and cubicles and hallways and boxes, boxes and hallways. People didn't pay more for or appreciate creativity in architecture these days, and Frank couldn't find the self-motivation needed to do it anyway.

After a couple of drinks and about ready to go to bed, angry and disappointed in himself, he looked at the blueprint one last time, and a stray, almost meaningless thought past through his head.

'_Well, maybe some inmate will find it comforting._'

Frank looked at the blueprint for a longer time, for some reason captured by this thought, which lead to another.

'_Would a crazy person find a building like this comforting?_'

So, entranced by this thought, he took out some books on the mental conditioning, and read. He read about obsessive compulsive disorder, and then went and made sure all of the rooms were even, the hallways all went in perfect symmetry, and that both sides of the hospital reflected each other. Then he read about patients who, for some reason or another, often forgot where they were or where they were going. He spent hours after that rearranging things, making sure that the hospital was easy to navigate, that important rooms like the med-bay had effortless access.

Then he read about 'screamer' patients, and even though he knew it would cost more and the investors might turn the project down because of that, he reinforced some of the rooms, including the isolation rooms, so that screaming, raving patients wouldn't disturb or frighten other calmer patients.

The next morning the blue-print looked quite different from its original draft, and Frank Baker was stunned when the owners not only accepted the more pricy design, but congratulated him on a job well done. His faith in his profession restore, he went on to have a successful career, eventually moving to Africa with his family to help build new structurally sound homes for the poor.

We explore the history of the asylum, for one reason: nobody could understand that, after two major explosions and over an hour of being consumed by fire, how the asylum managed to stand for as long as it did. The building should have fallen within the first half hour, baffled specialists said; the roof should have caved in once the walls were so thoroughly damaged by the fire. Physically, it was impossible for the building to stand as long as it did…

And even then, the befuddled specialists pointed out, it should have at least definitely caved in once the foolish firemen, who had heard from a doctor that children might still be trapped inside, decided it was a good idea to start knocking out walls in an already badly damaged building to find them. But still, the building stood as the firemen knocked down, as carefully as they could, as many walls as they could, calling for the children, fighting the fire and looking through the smoke. But still, the building refused to fall. It shouldn't have worked, the specialists cried, it shouldn't have worked.

Superstitious people, people spiritually inclined, or those who just believed that good intentions lead to good things, would quietly remark that the building stood when it shouldn't of, because of people like Peter Pertenson and Frank C. Baker, and of course, Saint Anne Pertenson; three forces of will that nearly a century back, dreamed good dreams about the asylum. These people would say that it was these three who gave the asylum the will it needed to stand as long as it had too until, finally, just before the building could stand no more, a lucky fireman using information from two little children they had saved only ten minutes before, busted a hole into one of the asylums solitary rooms, and saw three little boys, staring up at him, terrified…but alive. The firemen then managed to save those children, to get them out of the hospital…and only then, did the roofs cave in, and the walls fall, and the asylum seemed to have one last gasping, gurgling breath, a death rattle, before the whole thing fell altogether.

Thus, the story ended the way it began; a building, protecting those who could not protect themselves.

Goodbye, Saint Anne's Insane Asylum.

6

It was when Lewis's lungs hit fresh air, that he finally started choking.

The smoke and the ash had, by now, developed a thick layer around his ?????, just a tad too late for the absence of its source to do any good. Lewis looked around in his cracked, blackened glasses and saw the world go fuzzy, fresh air all around him, so close yet entirely out of reach as he gasped for breath, unable to get the air past the filth that covered his lungs.

As he choked, he heard one of the firefighters who had pulled them out shout to the crowd to give him some room before a mouth pressed against his, and air was shoved roughly down his throat, though his chest was left alone. The filth not cleared away, the man did it again and again, until finally Lewis let out a gasp and clear, blessed air filled his aching lungs.

"Oh Lewis, thank god!" he heard a woman sob. Mildred? What was she doing here?

His brain felt loopy and his eyes were burning and blurred, but eventually he could focus around him, and to both his shock and utter relief, he was surrounded by familiar faces. He saw Mildred, looking down at him with tear filled eyes that seemed to be debating between fury and relief, and two people he recognized as Franny's parents, who weren't looking at him but at a bundle in their arms. Lewis didn't have to see what was in the blanket to know it was Franny, and felt a surge of relief so strong it was almost painful. Immediately after that he spotted Goob, who gave him a wan smile and a weak wave. A little ways behind Goob was Bryan, who was hugging a noticeably older woman, who was weeping openly. Then there were the firemen, one of them, though he didn't know which one, being the one who had just saved his life; he'd have to thank them for that. Then, finally…

He gulped guiltily, squeaking out, "Doctor Reed?"

The harassed blond doctor grinned at him triumphantly, "Got you this time, 'Lou'. Now stand still, I need to look you over. Seems like every time I see you kids you're in worst condition…"

This statement reminded Lewis who was missing, and he turned to the firemen anxiously, "Wilbur!? Did you bring back Wilbur?!"

One of the firemen nodded, "The black haired kid with the cuts? Yeah, relax kid, he's…well, more or less fine, considering how we found you kids. In fact, you're all lucky you're in as good condition as you are. You're all spending tonight in a medical hospital, of course, but still, damn lucky. Your friend's in one of ambulances, getting some of his cuts stitched back up. Otherwise, he's fine."

Mildred's hand was on Lewis's shoulder, and it got tighter as her face continued to struggle between grief, relief and fury, "You boys…how could you and Michael do that to me!? Do you have any idea how worried I was?! I didn't even know you were missing! I had to find out about it when Franny's parents came over and asked me if I had seen their daughter…you could have died!" Mildred shouted/sobbed, now hugging Lewis, "I was so scared for you…"

Lewis looked at Mildred's tear-stained face and felt stunned. He had never seen the older woman cry before out of anything other than joy, typically when she was sending another kid off to a permanent family. He felt troubled by the idea that he could have been the one to cause such an emotional breakdown in such a strong woman.

He hugged her back, tears in his own eyes, "I'm sorry Mildred…" Lewis rasped.

"No more talking, your throat's a mess and doesn't need the stress," Doctor Elliot Reed said sternly, "Just lie still, answer my questions with either a nod or shake of the head…and congratulations, you got out," Doctor Reed comforted him, giving him a bright smile, "You're all safe now."

Lewis looked at the ruin that had once been a building, still burning brightly, and looked over at Goob who was staring at the building grimly as well. Lewis couldn't bring himself to tell the doctor that, yes, the kids had gotten out…

But he didn't think they were safe yet.

7

_The man wasn't dressed like he normally was. A dressing of all black had been traded for green, the same color that the orderlies of the now lost asylum wore. In this color, he could watch his work in intimacy, right amongst the crowd._

_The children had lived. Well, of course they had. His plan wouldn't have worked if they had died, and as stated before, the man believed completely and utterly that the law of probability was on his side, no matter how improbable it was. Still, he had succeeded the way he had hoped this night would. The boy was out of his prison, back amongst people who could successfully do what no one else was in the position to do._

_It was time to implement the final trigger…the one that would free _her.

_It was painfully easy to get the boy alone. All that was required was patience. After a doctor was done stitching him up, he simply waited for an opportune moment when the crowd would all be focused entirely on other things, and no one would noticed just another orderly walking up to the boy, even if they were asked about it later._

_To the child's credit, he did try to scream when he saw him, but the man quickly covered his mouth. As the boy struggled against him, the man leaned into his ear, he whispered the last of many trigger words that had been so carefully arranged, and just as intended, the boy passed out when he heard them, and his mind immediately began to reorganize itself. It was three simple, clear words, that had to be said in a very specific way, and so this was the way the man said them before he was gone, away from the ruined building and the ruined lives inside of it, all of which he had caused. _

_Just three little words:_

"_Mother needs you."_

_-TBC-_

Authors Note: for readers not in the know, _never_ expect a chapter this long again 0.o


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Authors Note:

I saw the Alice in Wonderland movie, which was excellent. Then I got their music CD, which was also good. Then I read a bunch of Alice fanfiction and looked at a bunch of Alice fanart, most of which was also phenomenal.

Really, I was helpless to do anything _but _do an Alice in Wonderland chapter.

Also, I'm going to go ahead and put all of the parts of Chapter Nine into one chapter, so if you see the story chapter count is suddenly two less, that's why.

0

Lewis woke up from a nap he hadn't meant to take at two in the afternoon, looked blearily at the sunny day outside of the hospital window, and though his body ached and his burns stung and his eyes were desperately trying to keep him from falling asleep again, he enjoyed for a moment the warmth of the sun against his face.

There was a great deal of a difference between the heat of the sun and the heat of flames ready to consume you and the people you love.

Lewis blinked at this thought, mulling it over in his head. Orphan children have a naturally difficult time learning the concept of love; for most children, love was learned from their natural instincts towards their parents, and immediate family. After that, it was typically easy to turn that pure love towards siblings, and then towards friends, and then, depending on how their experience growing up was, towards the world in general.

For an orphan child, especially one that was orphaned at birth, love was a far more difficult thing to grasp. Most orphans are moved from place to place throughout their lives, and though they might come to care about the people they stayed with, there was always the knowledge about how easily these people could be lost, as their natural family had been. Lewis was one of the lucky ones, who had had one consistent guardian, Mildred, who had been kind to him his entire life. But though he, in a way, loved Mildred, and she him, there had always been that wall, put in by Mildred herself, that so when the day came that Lewis was adopted he'd be happy to go, rather than mourning her. Lewis, being incredibly smart for his age, had always understood and accepted this, but it had also led to him never really truly loving someone his entire life…unless, of course, you counted his intense desire for his real mother, who he had yet to even meet.

Lewis closed his eyes against the sun, and saw the four people he had been talking to this morning. Since the hospital had a strict two patience per room policy, he and Wilbur had been sharing a room together, but at the first of morning Goob, Franny and Bryan had all found a way into their room, and the five of them had spent all morning talking about, what else, the night before.

Goob and Franny had explained exactly how they had gotten out. Apparently, they had managed to get to one of the edges of the hospital through the vents, and while they were trying to find a way out, the firemen had chanced upon them, taking out the walls and then grabbing them as soon as they saw them. Both Goob and Franny had been covered in bruises, far more then when they had left Lewis and Bryan; Goob's eye was swollen completely shut, and somehow Franny had gotten such a nasty injury on her arm that, though it wasn't broken, it would still need to be in a slink for a few days. Franny said she had gotten it when they had fallen out of the vent, but then she and Goob had shared a look that hinted there was more to the story. Lewis hadn't asked.

He saw them in his mind eye, those two tiny black haired friends, saw their injuries, remembered how relieved he had been when he had saw them alive and well, how intense that feeling had been, and wondered if this was what people meant when they said they loved their friends. Lewis had also been somewhat of a cynic about such statements, believing in love, but also believing people threw around that word too casually, hadn't ever really believed that you could love someone you weren't related or married too.

Did he love them? He wasn't sure, but he was beginning to suspect that the answer was yes. This was not necessarily a good thing. Love was a very risky business for an orphan child who's waiting for someone, anyone, from any part of the country to come take them away…

Then another image burned into his mind: Bryan. This one completely confused Lewis, because though he hadn't yet even known Bryan for twenty hours yet, his feelings towards Bryan were very close to what he was feeling towards Goob and Franny. Lewis had heard of this, of course; you saw cases of it all the time, in news reports like 9/11 or Hurricane Katrina, where people who barely know each other being stuck together in a crisis situation and becoming extremely close, extremely fast because of it. A theory he had read about once, just by chance, had stated that these sudden feelings of intimacy was because during a crisis, in order to survive you have to learn extremely fast to trust the person you're trying to survive with, so all the walls, all the social dances people put themselves through in order to get close to someone in a normal situation are thrown aside in the name of survival. Basically, that Lewis had learned everything he needed to really know about Bryan in a few hours instead of months, because he had _needed _to know.

Bryan was temporarily in a wheelchair due to a severe burn on his leg, but otherwise he was well enough to be discharged, and would soon be able to go home. There was still, however, the debate about where 'home' was, since his last place of residence had just burned down, and Lewis wondered if his fretting over this, if his genuine concern over what happened to Bryan, was a sort of love as well…

Then, of course, the last one, and most confusing one of all: Wilbur, his stalker, his friend… his 'son'. Wilbur, who had apparently loved Lewis the first second he saw him, the way any 'child' would love his 'father'.

Lewis opened his eyes and stared miserably at the ceiling; there was so much wrong with that last thought that Lewis could barely wrap his rather formidable brain around it.

Again Lewis closed his eyes and immediately saw Wilbur, who was currently off somewhere in the hospital with the other kids. He saw the Wilbur from this morning, who had looked over at him from his bed and had smiled warily, eyes wrinkling around the stitches that bordered them, new, similar looking cuts how all over his arms that Lewis had as of yet been too tired, and frankly a little afraid, too ask about. Wilbur hadn't been his usual up-beat self that morning, but after the insanity of the night before this didn't concern Lewis too much, deciding it was probably just fatigue or shock. Still, Wilbur had seemed distracted all morning, staring curiously into the air, frowning, as if seeing just barely something that troubled him deeply. Other than to answer some questions about the night before, Lewis had barely spoken to Wilbur that morning, not because he was upset about the 'father' confession, though that still worried him greatly...

It was just, that…looking at the banged up, distressed Wilbur actually seemed to physically _hurt_. Lewis would be reminded of the night before, seeing Wilbur tied up and beaten down with that…that wide-eyed, eerie look on his face, counting to a hundred behind a mask that was meant for _other people's_ protection…

That image made Lewis want throw a chair into a wall and curl up and cry, all at the same time. He was so scared for Wilbur that to keep himself from shaking he had to constantly turn his mind away from the boy, but at the same time this fear made him so mad that he wanted to destroy everything in sight…and yet, he _still_ couldn't hate Wilbur for all the misery the boy had added to his life.

Was that love? Was a feeling so intense, so frightening, so _dangerous_…was that love? Not the kind between lovers, but not the kind between friends either. Was it love?

Lewis was beginning to think it was. He had absolutely no idea what to do with that information.

He didn't _want_ to care about Wilbur. He didn't know why, but he knew that caring about Wilbur would mean something different then caring about Goob and Franny and Bryan; he got the vaguest sense that if he cared about Wilbur, he would lose something…but what?

Lewis had always thought love was something straightforward, that even if it wasn't easy, it also wasn't difficult to identify, or to figure out the source. If he had to describe it, he supposed he had thought love was like a Dr. Suess book; it was twisty and curvy, and needed an open mind to understand it, but point A typically lead to B, all the way to Z. There was rhyme and reason, and it was simple to spot both.

Instead, Lewis now realized love was more madness, like a poem from an Alice in Wonderland book: you kind of got a sense that, if you look at it the right way, the poem might actually be saying something, and you always get the vague impression that whatever it's saying actually really is relevant to what's going on; however, beyond that you're as confused as the main character, Alice, was.

He wondered if he would have to deal with love the same way Alice had had to deal with those poems: kind of just go along with it and hope his lack of understanding didn't bite him in the butt later. That method had worked fairly well for Alice. He had a feeling it wouldn't go quite as neatly for him.

Suddenly, his room door banged open, and Goob ran inside, his good eye wide open as he huffed, "Lewis, come quickly! They're taking them away! They're taking Wilbur and Bryan away!"

1

When the two boys got to Stephen's room, where the four had been hanging out while Lewis slept, an old woman was filling out some paperwork as a stunned looking Bryan seemed to be stammering through some questions two doctor looking people were asking him. Wilbur was sitting on Bryan's bed, a similar stunned look on his face, and Lewis wondered if the doctors had already interrogated Wilbur as they were Bryan. Franny was nowhere to be seen.

"I-I don't understand!" Lewis heard Bryan exclaim, "What do you mean you're sending me to a hospital out of the state!? I can't just leave, my whole life is here!"

"We understand that, Bryan," one of the doctors said kindly, writing something into his clipboard, "But all the mental hospitals in nearby cities are full, the closest place that would take you is in the next state over. Now, you know that you're grandmother can't take care of you, I'm afraid this is the only option…"

"Can't I just go home to my parents?! I'm only supposed to be in here for a few weeks!" Bryan insisted, "Why can't I just go home!?"

The two doctors looked at each other, the other doctor then saying very tenderly, "Bryan, you've been told this numerous times, and I understand you don't like it, but we'll say it again; you're parents, along with your brother, are dead. They've been dead for over a year. You've been in the hospital for over a year. Do you remember that?"

Lewis, Goob, and Wilbur watched, stunned, as Bryan gave the doctors a confused look before saying, "What are you saying? I can't hear you. Why are you mumbling? Why can't I just go home?"

The doctors gave each other a sigh that said, 'we tried', before the first doctor said simply, "You just have too, Bryan. You're grandmother agrees with us. Now, we were going to ship you out today, but there's a nasty storm coming, so you'll stay for another night, and then you'll leave tomorrow morning on a bus with the other patients. That goes for you too, young man," The doctor said sternly to Wilbur, who glared at him in retaliation. Apparently, while Lewis was asleep, 'words' had exchanged. Wilbur never had been very good at talking to adults…

"Lewis, do something," Goob whispered, "They're taking them out of the state. We'll never see either of them again!"

Lewis thought guiltily, '_maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.' _He turned to Goob and asked, "What am I supposed to do? Bryan's grandmother has custody over him, and…well, you just saw what happened. I think Bryan needs some real help. We shouldn't mess with that."

"But what about Wilbur?" Goob insisted.

Lewis looked over at Wilbur. The teen was staring out the window miserably, and seemed completely oblivious to everyone else in the room. Lewis stared at him for a long time, and a voice in the back of his head whispered, '_If you help him, you're going to lose it…_'

'_Lose what?'_

His mind didn't reply. This sometimes happened in the middle of when he was inventing something, when a part of his brain knew something and was waiting for the rest of him to catch up. There wasn't much he could do about it other than let his mind go through the motions.

"Let me think about it, I'll see if I can find a loophole…where's Franny?" Lewis asked.

"Trying to convince Mildred to take custody over Wilbur, though so far Mildred seems pretty set on allowing Wilbur to leave the state. She says he'll be safer there. Tsk, like the Bowler Hat Guy can't travel." Goob scowled.

"You didn't tell anyone about him, did you!?" Lewis asked urgently, looking warily over at the doctors, who were now talking to Bryan's grandmother.

Goob shook his head, "No, of course not, I stuck to the story. We were going to visit Wilbur because we didn't know visitor hours closed at night, and got caught up in the fire. Just a couple of dumb kids doing a stupid move. I still don't really understand why we aren't telling them about the Bowler Hat Guy though…"

"We have no proof, none whatsoever." Lewis explained, thinking with dread over what would have happened had they spilled their guts; he could just imagine psychiatrists and Mildred's tearful face, and one cop who would no doubt look suspiciously at them and ask, have you bought any gasoline lately… "We'll sound as crazy as Wilbur does on a regular basis. Look, I'm going back to my room, I'm really tired."

"Don't you want to say something to Wilbur? He's really freaked out," Goob pointed out. He was right, Wilbur looked strung out and dazed, like he was half asleep, staring out intensely into empty space. He probably could use a comforting word…

'_If I help him…_' Lewis shook his head, heading out, "No, just tell him I'm still asleep. I'll…I'll think of something."

He ignored the look of suspicion on Goob's face and headed back to his room. He really had no clue what he was going to do, his body hurt all over, and he wanted to go back to sleep. He'd figure out their next step when he woke up. Until then, he wasn't going to think about it.

'…_you'll lose it.'_

'_Lose what?'_

No answer. He went to his room to sleep.

2

That night, probably because of his earlier thoughts, Lewis had a bad dream about Wonderland.

He dreamt he was running through a field, chasing something. At first he thought he was chasing a white rabbit, one that bounded in great speed ahead of him. But the more he ran, the more he saw it was actually a girl, and he wasn't chasing, he was following. She was showing him the way to Wonderland.

Though Lewis hadn't seen it from a distance, eventually they ran up to a great wall of fire, one that rose so high that he couldn't see the clear blue sky anymore. The girl looked over at Lewis, and though Lewis had to stay far back, away from the shearing heat of the flame and the cloud of the smoke, the girl seemed entirely undisturbed by both as she pointed at the flame, and said "It's this way. You have to go this way."

Lewis took a step back and shook his head, "You're lying. I want to go to Wonderland. That's not the way to Wonderland."

The girl looked at him curiously, and asked, "Why do you want to go to Wonderland?"

Lewis had no idea why he wanted to go to Wonderland, but the first thing that came to mind popped out of his mouth, "I need to understand something."

The girl smiled and nodded, "I wanted nonsense, so I went through a rabbit hole. I wanted order, so I went through a looking glass. If you want understanding, this is the way you have to go." She explained, pointing to the flames.

Lewis looked at the towering wall of fire and shook, "But it'll burn me! It'll hurt!"

The girl nodded sadly. "Yes." She agreed, "It will.

Lewis looked up at the wall, before looking back at the girl to protest some more, but she was gone. It was only him and the fire.

Lewis wanted to back to the field. It was boring there, but it was nice and predictable and, most importantly, safe. In an empty field, there are no flames to hurt you, or to bind you, or to cage you. There was no risk in the field at all.

…but there was no knowledge there as well, no understanding. And Lewis needed the understanding. So even though he was terrified, even though he wanted nothing more than to run and hide, Lewis closed his eyes, held his breath, and instead, ran into the flames.

3

Lewis was in water.

He remembered running into the flames, knew it had engulfed his small body, but there he was, whole and unhurt, floating in the water. An ocean, judging by its salty taste. Off in the distance, he heard thunder, great, big booms of it. It sounded like a baby sobbing.

Eventually his body drifted toward a beach, and as Lewis was dragging himself to shore, strong hands suddenly lifted him up, and helped him onto the beach. Once he was safely on the sand, he looked up to thank his rescuer, only to see the oddest looking bird he had ever come across; it was shaped like a dodo bird, a long instinct species, but was twice as tall himself, had the coloring of a crow, and somehow managed to smile at him warmly with a hardened beak as it asked kindly, "You okay, honey?"

Lewis started to nod, before a thought came to him, and he quickly asked, "Do you know?!"

The Dodo bird frowned, "Do I know what? You have to give a question, if you want to know something."

Lewis had been afraid of that. He didn't know what he needed to know, only that he could only learn it here, through the flames, into Wonderland. He didn't have a question.

He opened up to tell the Dodo this, but instead heard himself say, "What happened between the mouse and the fury?"

"Ah," the Dodo nodded, "That's a long, sad story, but I shall give you the short version. The fury tried to unjustly execute the mouse, but the mouse fought back. Their fight resulted in the house burning down, and they were both left injured, homeless, and needlessly feuded for the rest of their days."

Lewis raised an eyebrow, "And the moral of that is?"

The Dodo sighed as more thunder sobbed in the distance, "Morals. Everyone always wants morals. The Dutchess would say that the moral is, don't fight inside the house, but the Dutchess has always had a sort of over-simplified way of looking at life." the Dodo then looked Lewis seriously in the eye, and said quietly, "_I_ think it means, choose your battles wisely. Is he worth it?"

"Who?" Lewis asked, but the Dodo and the beach were both gone, and all around him was forest.

"Who, who?" A voice said from above him, and Lewis looked up sharply to see, not an owl, but a cat. A blond cat with tired eye and a lazy smile.

"What?" Lewis asked, watching in fascination as he realized that many part of the cat, from its tail to its legs to its head kept fading in and out, actively and apparently randomly. As far as Lewis could tell, the cat didn't seem to have any control over which part of it disappeared at which time, for it took a long while for the Cat's mouth to come back.

When it did, the cat replied, "Who is it you are talking about? Come on, dude, you can tell me."

It seemed odd to hear a cat use a word like 'dude', even odder then to have it grinning and talking and fading in and out in such a dizzying fashion, and Lewis replied defensively, "Well, who are you?"

The cat's grin seemed to grow wider as it chuckled, "I'm your sorry excuse for a guide. I'm here to tell you which way you need to go to find him. It's the only thing I'm good for." The cat finished sadly, looking down at its see-through body, which was quickly become altogether invisible, "I'm not quite all here, as you can see."

"Yes, and I'm sorry for that, but who are you talking about?" Lewis demanded.

"That's what _I_ asked," the Cat pointed out good-naturedly.

Lewis shook his head in fury, before remembering his quest. Finally, he asked, "Do you know?"

"Know what?" The Cat asked, its eyes fading away. Lewis wondered if it could still see him.

Lewis couldn't explain that he didn't know the question, so instead asked, "What happened to the Dutchesse's child?"

"Ah," the cat nodded, "The Dutchess went mad when the child was born, and decided it was a pig. She has been trying to catch it and eat it ever since. She thinks it will make a very nice stew."

"That's terrible!" Lewis cried, looking around the forest as if he might spot the Dutchess and the baby in their chase that very minute, "Where is it? I have to find the baby!"

"Why?" The cat asked curiously, though by now most of its head was gone, and all that was left were its ears and a smile.

Lewis still looked at the Cat in bewilderment, "Because…because it'll be murder to leave it behind! Please, you said you'd tell me where to go! Where is the baby!?"

Now there was only a smile left, and as it faded away, the cat said, "Up ahead, there are two paths. One leads to the Dutchess's house, the other to the home of the March Hare. To find what you're looking for, go to the Hare's house. In both ways lies madness."

"But I don't want to be amongst mad people!" Lewis protested.

Even though the smile was gone, a faded, distant voice called back, "Some would call it mad to jump through a wall of fire, you know. Even for someone you care about. Is he worth it?" And then it was gone.

Lewis walked down the path, and saw the sign that pointed in two directions, one to the Dutchess's house, the other to the Hare's house. He wondered, if he was looking for the baby, why not just go to its home. But the cat had said very specifically that he needed to go to the Hare's house to find what he was looking for.

Slowly, carefully, he walked down the path towards the Hare's house; the trees were getting sparser, and there seemed to be a more comfortable, yellow glow around the place. He felt immediately more at ease, and when he saw a house in the distance he immediately headed in that direction.

He heard music and went around the side of the house into the backyard, where he saw two people playing baseball, only instead of balls it was with plates and teacups. As Lewis walked up to them he had to duck and jump away from flying shards of glass, and couldn't understand for the life of him why the two weren't covered in cuts.

"Hey…hey!" he shouted, and finally the two noticed him.

"You can't play," the March Hare said, straightening her skirt, "The Dormouse went home, so it would be uneven teams."

"Besides, it's rude to butt in during the middle of a game, ya know," The Hatter sneered, resting the bat onto his shoulder. It was only when the bat started fluttering its wings that Lewis noticed there was something not quite right going on. He decided not to comment.

"I don't want to play, I'm just looking for something right now. I was hoping you two could help." Lewis explained, stepping between the numerous broken tea cups and chinaware. He wanted to ask if they knew where the Dutchess's baby was, but instead popped out, "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

There was a long moment of silence as the two looked at him, their expression suitable for someone who has just grown some new, snarling second head, before the Hatter simply asked, "What?"

"Um, why is a raven like a writing desk…there's an answer, isn't there?" Lewis tried again, feeling oddly sheepish, "Maybe…I don't know, something about Poe…maybe?"

"Ugh, I get it," the Hatter rolled his eyes, shifting to support his left leg, "You're one of those 'answer' people."

"Can't stand leaving a riddle unsolved," the Hare tsked, "Will drive you right mad…well, madder, by the look of you."

Lewis couldn't help but feel insulted under their patronizing gaze, "There's always an answer," Lewis insisted, "Why shouldn't I look for it?"

The Hatter and the Hare exchanged a knowing look before the Hatter explained, almost kindly, "Look Chief, we understand that, and yeah, everything does have an answer…but you're not going to find every answer, no matter how much of a genius you are. Sometimes, you're going to have to choose which question you really want the answer too."

"For example," the Hare continued, "Do you want to know why a raven is like a writing desk…or do you want to know where the Queen is?"

"Queen?" Lewis sputtered, now just completely lost, "…no, I mean, I'm looking for a-"

"We know what you're looking for, Lewis," the Hatter interrupted, and this time there was definitely a trace of sympathy in his voice as he continued, "but you can't have it both ways, there just isn't enough of you. You're going to have to choose which riddle you're going to solve, and which one will remain a mystery."

"I…I don't understand. What are you talking about?" Lewis could hear the begging tone in his own voice, but didn't care. Everyone here knew something he didn't, and he was sick and tired of it.

Again, the Hatter and Hare looked at each other, and the Hare sighed and the Hatter shrugged, and then they both pointed at a path that led into the woods and said together, "What you're looking for is that way." And then, like everyone he had met before, they were both gone.

4

"Shoot…shoot…frick!"

Lewis had been traveling down the path for awhile now, and looked up warily to hear a soft voice curse in the distance. Further down the path at a turning corner, he saw a white rabbit, the one he had seen in the beginning of his dream, wearing a white lab coat and staring miserably at its wristwatch.

"Late! I'm totally late! Frickety-frick-frick!" The rabbit cursed before bouncing away.

"H-hey! Wait a minute!" Lewis called, hoping the rabbit might give him directions, as he was beginning to worry he was lost. But the rabbit, either ignoring him or having not heard him, continued running, and frustrated with being left behind, Lewis chased after it.

"Oh man, she's going to totally have my head!" he heard the Rabbit whine, and as he turned the corner to follow it, he was stunned to see a great, huge castle just right in front of him. It was beautiful, all soft edges and soft colors, and for a second he was reminded of Wilbur's ramblings about the future, and thought that this was perhaps the kind of place Wilbur imagined when he spoke of it. Still running but not paying attention to his feet, his toes hit roughly a rock, and he sprawled onto the ground with a yell.

"Ugh…" Lewis groaned, grasping his knee which had hit the ground dead center. Above him, a voice said sternly, "Don't you move now. Let me see."

He looked up to see the white rabbit inspecting his knee, an annoyed look on its furry little face, "Great. You've gone and scrapped it. I'm very late you know, I shouldn't be messing about with you," the Rabbit informed him, but she took out her first aid kit as she said it anyway, and quickly began to care for the knee. As she did it, the Rabbit asked, "What were you chasing me for anyway? Can't you see I'm running late?"

"I didn't mean to delay you." Lewis apologized weakly, wincing as the rabbit covered his cut in alcohol, "I was trying to get directions to…well, here, I guess. I'm assuming the Queen lives here." Lewis gestured to the castle.

"Of course she lives here, only place fitting for a Queen now, isn't it. Hold still, I just have to bandage it. Then I really must be on my way." The Rabbit informed him, taking out a white strip of cloth to tie around the wound.

"Sorry," Lewis apologized again, "What am I making you late for?"

At least, that's what he meant to say. What really came out was, "Who stole the Queen's tarts?"

The Rabbit rolled her eyes, "Ugh, you heard about that did you? I swear, you try to set up a secret trial, and pretty soon the whole kingdom knows about it. That's what you're making me late for, ya know. They caught the Knave of Hearts, and I must be there to read out his sentencing. Poor bastard…" the Rabbit looked around suspiciously, before leaning over to Lewis to whisper, "Can you keep a secret?"

Lewis nodded.

The Rabbit looked around again, just to be sure, before whispering, "Well, between you and me, I happen to know for a fact that the Knave is innocent, and that those tarts weren't stolen at all. The Queen _gave_ those tarts away. To the Dodo Bird, if you can imagine! The scandal." The Rabbit shook her head in dismay, "but the Queen didn't want anyone to know, so now the poor Knave is going to be punished, probably beheaded. I'll of course try to get his sentence reduced, but…" the Rabbit shrugged a 'what can you do' shrug.

"That's terrible. Oh, thank you." Lewis thanked the Rabbit, who had just finished tending to his wound, "Well, can't you prove the Knave's innocent?"

The Rabbit gapped at him, "What?! And get my head chopped off for treason?! No, no, no, what the Queen wants, the Queen gets. By the way, the Queen wants to see you." The Rabbit mentioned almost as an afterthought as she put her tools away.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, "Me? What does she want with me?"

"Everyone's heard about you going off to find the Dutchess's baby, ya know. Probably wants to talk to you about that. Her chambers are that way, and don't delay. The Queen hates tardiness…"The Rabbit froze, than looked at her watch before shouting, "Frick! I'm late, I'm late!" before bouncing off in the opposite direction.

And then, because Lewis really couldn't help himself, he muttered, "Curioser and curioser."

Picking himself up and brushing himself off, Lewis headed in the direction the Rabbit had pointed him in. He made his way into a grand courtyard, which was full of hedges cut into the shapes of cute animals, perfect hearts and…DNA strands?

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" A woman, deep and sultry, said from behind him. Lewis whirred around at the voice, was about to say 'yes it is', and gasped.

Before him were two great thrones. On one throne was a woman, so clearly the Queen at first sight that Lewis's first instinct was to bow. On the other throne though…

"My memory scanner!" Lewis cried, staring at the shimmer machine which, due to the reflection, seemed to stare back at him, "What is that doing here?!"

"It is King," the Queen informed him, "I am Queen…and you, young man…are you Lewis?" the Queen asked, staring at him with deep, brown eyes.

This time Lewis really did bow, an awkward, quick thing as he replied, "Yes, your highness. The white rabbit said you wanted to speak to me about the Dutchess's baby. Do you know where it is?"

The Queen nodded, "Yes, my little tart, I do…but that is not why I called you here, despite what the white rabbit may think. Lewis, the reason I have called you here…" the Queen smiled, a warm, dazzling smile that made Lewis's insides melt, "…is because I want to make you prince of this kingdom."

Lewis blinked, absorbing this information before a small smile came to his face as he asked, unbelieving, "…me? You want to make me prince? You…you want me?"

The Queen nodded again, the smile still there, "Yes, my little tart, of course I want you. Oh, how I have missed you. Come, sit by me," she gestured beside her, and out of the ground, right between her and the memory scanner, "and together we shall rule this kingdom…Queen and Prince."

Lewis was full out grinning now, and he took a step towards the throne…and froze.

"You're highness," Lewis said after a moment, wishing he could just shut up, wishing he could just sit down, but he had to ask, "What about the Dutchess's baby?"

For a moment, the Queen's face seemed to harden, the smile seemed cold, but just as quickly it was back to normal as she asked, softly, "What of it? It is the Dutchess's child. She shall take care of it."

"I've heard she wants to kill and eat it, my Queen," Lewis explained, wanting so badly to sit, so badly, "If you'll wait…I can go get it, and bring it back…we could all be a family…"

This time the Queen's face did go cold, the smile slipping away, "No, Lewis. I cannot have two princes. It would bring anarchy and division to the kingdom. Come, sit. The Dutchess can take care of her own child, and we…"the Queen smiled, "We shall be a family, my little tart."

Lewis looked at the Queen, with her soft blond hair and her loving, regretful eyes. He looked at his memory scanner, which shimmered brilliantly, but lifelessly. And then he looked at the throne meant for him, and said softly, "I understand what the question is now."

"Oh?" The Queen said, looking down at him from upon her great throne, so close and yet so terribly far away, "and what's that?"

Lewis looked at the Queen, who he had been looking for, for so long, and explained, mostly to himself then anyone, "I have to choose, don't I? Between you and the Dutchess's baby. I can't do both. I could have found you, I could have talked to you, and loved you; you might have even taken me back." Lewis said thoughtfully, hearing thunder in the distance, thunder that sounded like crying, "But to do that would mean leaving the baby behind. I can't do both, I can't start a relationship with you, and take care of him at the same time. If I tried to do both, neither would work. I have to choose between you. That's why I've been so upset, so afraid, so confused. A part of me knew this the whole time. I have to choose…"

Thunder in the air, the smell of a distant storm, and somewhere a wall of fire roared. These things all seemed so far away in the garden though…

The Queen nodded, "Yes, you can't have us both. If you go save the child, you give me up, you put me aside. Me, this garden of hearts, the kingdom, everything you ever hoped you would have. So Lewis, I must ask…is he worth it?"

'_I want to stay!_' Lewis wanted to cry, wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, '_I want to stay here, with you! I don't want to hurt anymore, I don't want to be confused anymore, I want you to take care of me, please! Please don't let me leave!_'

Lewis wanted to say this, wanted to say it badly, but for some reason couldn't bring himself to do it. He was just about to ask why this was, when the girl said, "You've asked many questions, Lewis, so how about you answer one."

To Lewis's surprise, the Queen had been replaced by the girl who had shown the way to Wonderland. It was she who now sat on the throne, and it was on her head that the crown sat. "What happened to the Queen!?" Lewis demanded.

"No, no, no," the girl tsked, "it's my turn now. Tell me Lewis: at the end of my last book, I was a Queen of this land. I had worked long and hard for that position, but in the end I gave it up and went home. Why did I do that? Why did I leave, when I had finally had all I had ever wanted?"

Lewis gapped at her, trying to remember the book, but all he could recall was that her celebration party had gone bad. What had been the reason… "I don't know. Why did you give up the kingdom?"

Alice smiled, "Because, 'Cornelius', the dreams we have as children are often things of nonsense, and if every dream we ever had really did come true, we'd be sick of it in a moment. And, I'm sorry to say, that's all this kingdom, and the queen, is. A childhood dream."

This did not sit well with Lewis at all, and again he heard that crying thunder, and he shouted over it, "So, what, this is a dream, but the damn baby isn't!? Why is the thunder real, but this place is not? Why can't I give up Wilbur for my mom!?"

"Because the mother you love is imaginary, someone you created out of wishes and dreams and one very brief memory, which you stole out of your own head," Alice explained sadly, "While the thunder is actually happening."

Another blast of thunder, another gentle sob. Lewis could hear his name in the wind. "What do you mean, the thunder is real?"

"Who will it be, Lewis?" Alice demanded, "You must decide now, there's no time left! Stay in the field or run through the fire? Bow to the Queen or save the baby? Live in Wonderland or go home to the storm?! Decide, Lewis!"

"I!...I!.." Lewis blinked and saw the wall of fire, roaring and spitting and burning, and behind him was a beautiful garden full of flowers singing and the Queen standing and saying, "Decide, Lewis, decide!" and it was in all of that madness that Lewis looked into the flames, and saw, just faintly, in the distance behind the flames, a frumpy woman shaking a screaming baby, murmuring, "Speak roughly to your little boy, and beat him when he sneezes…"

And then he could see through the flame clearly, and though the cruel Dutchess was still just a shadow, he could see clearly the little baby. It didn't look like a pig. It looked like the most beautiful, precious thing Lewis had ever seen, and taking one look into that child's tear-stained, frightened face, Lewis knew that the whole time, there was only one choice he could have ever made.

"I'm coming, Wilbur!" Lewis screamed, and ran into the flames.

5

Lewis woke up, an odd dream he had been having quickly slipping like sand through fingers out of his mind, and he looked up to see Wilbur's frightened, tear-stained face looking down at him.

"I saw Carl, Lewis!" Wilbur sobbed, clutching at the younger boys shoulder, "He said mom's going to die!"

Outside, a storm thundered.

?

_Speak roughly to your little boy,_

_and beat him when he sneezes._

_He only does it to annoy,_

_Because he knows it teases._

_Speak roughly to the little_

_Boy,_

_And beat him,_

_Beat him,_

_Roughly._

_Beat him roughly!_

_Kill the child!_

_Thief of time!_

-tbc-


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Authors Note:

Hola people! I've decided to do just a little paragraph showing that constructive criticism in reviews actually _does_ help an author out, and that we really do appreciate it when our viewers are honest : )

I got a good number of reviews for the last chapter, but three stood out to me. They weren't long, or detailed, but they pointed out what I would later realize is a fact; the Alice in Wonderland dream broke the mood of the story. At first I brushed it off as just people who didn't like Alice in Wonderland, but re-reading the chapter, keeping this opinion in mind, I realized that they actually had a very valid point. While I had put in guest stars from other shows in before, it had always been a side thing and more or less necessary to plot development, such as the need for a doctor, using Scrubs, or Goob and Franny needing motivation to assert themselves to help Wilbur, using South Park. However, while Lewis's dilemma over understanding that his quest for his mother was going to have to be put on hold for a long, long time if he was going to help Wilbur was necessary, I could have told it in a more short, appropriate method. I should have kept it focused on Lewis and the story, rather than making it so much about Wonderland. The Alice in Wonderland thing came from exactly where I said it came from: I just happened to have it on the brain, and it showed in my writing.

What I should have done was put the chapter off, written other things, until my mind could get back into a Meet the Robinsons mind-frame, rather than pushing a chapter out while I clearly wasn't focused on it. Then, when my Alice in Wonderland fetish was finally played out, I could give you guys the chapter this story deserved. Thanks to you guy's constructive criticism, I now understand this, and this knowledge will improve my writing in the future.

So, for all readers who wondered if reviewing was really helping anyone, other than just a method for stories to keep score over how well their doing compared to other stories: yes, yes it is! And please continue it! Constructive criticism really _does_ help, and I, at the very least, appreciate it greatly. So, if something in a chapter doesn't fit, let me know! Rather than be offended, I'll be grateful somebody pointed it out ^_^.

Whelp, if you managed to read through that little rant, then thank you. Now, go enjoy the rest of the chapter…and review!

0

While Lewis was asleep, Wilbur was awake, though how much of difference that made between them was anyone's guess. Wilbur had been unable to sleep, too preoccupied by the itching of his stitches and the itching of his mind to relax himself to sleep, and eventually, unable to just lay there anymore, he very quietly got up, trying not to wake Lewis before slipping out into the halls.

Even at ten at night, when no visitors were allowed, the hospital was still busy. Wilbur looked with some small amount of apprehension as all around doctors and nurses and other patients wondered around, some with purpose, a few aimlessly. After waiting a moment, anxiously waiting for some to suddenly look over at him and demand to know why he left his room, Wilbur decided it would be safe to look around for a water fountain before heading back to bed.

The crowded hallways were somewhat unnerving; Wilbur's head was feeling particularly fuzzy, he kept seeing things, like images that were almost shadows, out of the corner of his eye, and he couldn't shake a heavy weight of paranoia that made him feel like he was being watched.

'But then,' Wilbur considered miserably, 'Maybe I am being watched. If not by orderlies who all think I'm nuts…then by the bowler hat guy', who Wilbur was sure gave him a concussion the night before when he kicked his head into a wall, but whom Lewis convinced Wilbur to cover up for when explaining what happened to the doctors.

"Why?" Wilbur had asked, surprisingly only finding himself slightly interested in the answer. His head was still so fuzzy, "The cops know it was arson already, so why not just tell them who the arsonist is?"

Lewis had explained that they already had a suspect in custody, a female orderly who had been caught on film starting the fire. He explained that if a bunch of kids who shouldn't have even been at the hospital walked up to a cop and tried to pin the fire on a man without a name, who one of the kids was absolutely convinced came from the future…could, at best, result in all of them being separated for their own mental health, or at worst, result in the cops turning their suspicions on them.

"We don't even have the note that told us the hospital was going to be burned down anymore," Lewis sighed, "I took it with us to Anne's in case we were caught and needed to explain why we were there, but the note got destroyed in a river of molten chili… I'll explain later."

So Wilbur had promised not to say anything and, so far, hadn't. Didn't mean he didn't want to. Didn't mean that he wasn't desperate for some help. Whether it be from doctors or cops or whoever, to keep his friends safe from a mad man that had set a hospital on fire. All because of Wilbur…people had died in that fire. All because a thirteen year old boy somehow made an enemy out of a man who, Wilbur was beginning to understand, may or may not _exist_…

And, if he doesn't exist, what does that mean about the fire?

The hallway was suddenly too crowded, and even though it led in the complete opposite direction to where he knew the water fountains on this floor were, he walked through two closed hallways doors, finding himself in the dark, alone.

'_45, 46, 47_'

Wilbur shook the numbers out of his head, confused as to why numbers kept popping into his head whenever he was alone in a dimly lit place lately. It had already happened three times that day. He looked around to see why this hallway was closed off, noticing the odd odor in the air he had smelled before was coming from the walls, where there was still wet paint.

Careful to avoid both the walls and newspaper layout that had caught stray paint, Wilbur went to sit down, deciding to wait until his hands stopped shaking and his head didn't feel quite so foggy before risking the crowded hallways again.

Immediately the cool of the tile floor pressing against his skin through his hospital issued clothes created a soothing environment, and as he rested his chin on his knees and closed his eyes, considered for a moment just sleeping there. He doubted that Lewis would even notice he was missing, as other then telling Wilbur what their cover story was going to be about why the other kids had been at the hospital was, the blond hadn't so much as looked at Wilbur. Wilbur had the vague idea that Lewis was angry with him, maybe over Wilbur's role in the fire, or maybe because of the 'Daddy' declaration.

'_I wish Dad_ was _here_.' Wilbur thought miserably, '_The dad Lewis is going to be one day, anyway._' The Lewis Wilbur remembered, Cornelius, always knew what was going on, and what to do about it. Wilbur had never been able to keep anything from the old man. D on his report card? Dad knew before Wilbur could even attempt to bury it in the back yard. Vase broke? Dad could fix it, but not before giving a long, long lecture. Sneaking out at night? Dad would let Wilbur go through all the effort of climbing out of the window and onto the ground before surprising him with a stern "And where do you think _you're _going, young man?"

Wilbur smiled at these memories…memories that might, he remembered darkly, all be just in his head. Being convicted into an insane asylum does things to your perception of reality, and Wilbur was finally willing to admit, at least to himself, that some of his memories didn't make much sense. If a bowler hat with steel claws had scratched up his arms, why did he later have to pick skin out of his fingernails? If he came to the past in a Time Machine, where the heck did said Time Machine go?

Not to mention the small problem of, well…his mom. Bryan had asked who his mother was, and even though Wilbur had numerous memories of his mother, of her warm eyes and warm smiles, he couldn't forget how his first thought when Bryan had asked was a distinct and clear, '_What mother?_'

"I think I'm losing my mind," Wilbur whispered.

"Losing? My friend, you've been wrong in the head for as long as I've known you."

Wilbur bolted to his feet with a yell, backing away until his elbow brushed against the wall to his back, a cool feeling of liquid reminding him to be careful as he stared, saucer-eyed, as Carl gave him a curious, somewhat worried look. "W-what are you doing here!?" Wilbur shouted, looking the robot up and down to confirm, yes, this was his childhood friend. What did this mean? Wilbur couldn't decide if he wanted to wrap his friend in a hug, or run to the nearest doctor and request another straight jacket.

As Wilbur practically hyperventilated, Carl raised his hands up in apology, "Woah, sorry little buddy, didn't meant to startle ya. But, you have to listen, I don't have much time before the timer goes off."

"Timer? What are you talking about? What are you doing here!?" Wilbur demanded again, now more angry then frightened. It had been a very hard, very tiring week, and Wilbur suddenly wanted nothing more than to go back to his room and go to sleep. Couldn't the future just leave him alone, for one flipping night?!

"I mean it, I don't have time for this, so I'll give you the quick explanation. I'm not really here at all. This is a holographic projection of me your dad managed to send back, though the holograms power supply is going to run out soon." Carl tried to explain, though he found himself with a surprisingly reluctant audience as Wilbur raised his eyebrow at him.

"Hologram?" Wilbur mimicked back somewhat unbelievingly, looking around the otherwise empty hallway, "How? I'm no big scientist like dad, but even I know a hologram needs some sort of obvious source, like a projector, and there's nothing here but me and you."

"Ugh, I don't have time to explain! You know how Cornelius is, he figures out how to do the impossible. Now _listen_," Carl insisted, stressing the next few words, "Mother needs you!"

Wilbur blinked. Hadn't he heard those three words before, recently even? He couldn't remember… "What do you mean, mom needs me? What can I do for her? She's thirty years in the future!"

"Not anymore," Carl replied dryly, "I'm not sure how long it's been for you here, in the past, but last night for the future, we discovered both you and all of our time machines were missing. Dad was able to figure out where the time machines went, but without one in our time, there was no way for us to come back and get you. Dad managed to create a weak version of the time machine, a one way trip that would only work on only one person, since we didn't have a strong enough power source to send multiple people for multiple trips. Your mom insisted she be the one sent back to find you, but not five minutes after we sent her, we got a distress signal from her, a letter she had written back in this timeline that got delivered to us thirty years later, stating that she had been discovered by twenty-first century authorities, and that if you two didn't arrive back within the hour, meant she had been captured. According to the letter, the most likely place she's being kept is in a corporate building called InventCo."

"The invention company dad started in before he set up his own?" Wilbur replied, stunned, "But, Dad's interning there now, as we speak. He would have definitely mentioned something if his building was holding a time traveler prisoner. How long has mom been trapped in the past?"

"She got captured probably the same day you arrived here," Carl answered, speaking quickly "And since Cornelius is an intern, the scientists holding her probably thought it was better he didn't know. Cornelius did some research, and found out that the government thirty years ago, that being today, had made a top secret pickup from InventCo tomorrow morning. We think that pickup might be your mom. The rest of the family can't come back here to help you, it'll take years to build a suitable power source, so it's up to you. Find your mom, find the time machines, and for my sake, little buddy, come home safely!"

For a second, it was like Carl was blurring, and then he was gone. Wilbur didn't even register for a second his friend had disappeared, without warning or good reason, having to blink a few more times before shouting, "Carl!?"

There was no answer. Wilbur stared blankly into that chilling hallway that no longer soothed, and thought warily to himself, '_Did that….just happen?_'

"I saw him," Wilbur whispered to himself, "He was right there. I didn't…touch him, or anything…but, that was because he was a hologram. A hologram sent from the future…oh god, that sounds even stupid to me, how the heck am I going to get Lewis to believe it!?"

There was no answer, just an echo so faint that by the time it bounced back Wilbur couldn't even make out his own desperate plea.

Wilbur started to pace, back and forth, brows furrowed even though such expressions stretched at his stitches and made them itch again, "Alright, Wilbur, man, let's think about this logically, okay? You were…just in a mental hospital, not two days ago. A mental hospital that burned down, for that matter, and the nice therapist, whatever her name was, said that if I started to see, hear, or feel weird things, it was perfectly natural and to tell someone immediately. So, I should go tell a doctor, right?"

"No, no, no!" Wilbur whispered fiercely to himself, "If you tell a doctor that you're being stalked by a robot from the future, they'll just write it down in those little notebooks and sigh to themselves and decide maybe you'll never, ever be fit enough to mingle with normal people ever again! Dad or not, I don't want to never see Lewis again, it's…I just can't handle that!"

Wilbur had worked himself into somewhat of a frenzy, and as he stopped to catch his breath, he finally sighed, "I…can't. Can't handle this anymore. Face it, Wilbur, man, being locked up, the memory inconsistencies…it's not all a coincidence. So, I'm not going to tell anyone," Wilbur decided, sucking in a deep breath to calm his nerves, "I'm just going to go back to bed. Tomorrow…I don't know, I'll figure something out. Maybe I can just go to the out of state hospital for…a little while, until I can prove to them I'm not as crazy as everyone thinks I am. Because, I'm not, right? This proves it, right? If I can understand that Carl wasn't actually here, and my mom…"

Wilbur frowned. To be honest, his mind had kind of washed over Carl's little speech, trying to cope with the fact that Carl was there at all, but now that that hurdle had been jumped, he had nearly run into a mental equivalent of a wall. "Mom…of course my mom isn't from the future. That's…stupid. A very stupid story that my freaky little brain cooked up. She's…not in trouble. She's not…re-" For some reason, Wilbur had an extremely difficult time finishing that sentence, and could feel tears well up in his eyes. He remembered once upon a time that crying had been an uncommon occurrence, something that shamed him greatly, but now it seemed to start happening every other hour, and Wilbur just couldn't bring himself to care about it too much as he struggled to continue with his logic, "Anyway, yeah…Mom's not in trouble, so just…go back to bed Wilbur."

Getting his tears under as much control as he could, Wilbur walked back out into the hallway. Nobody took any notice of him, or asked him what was wrong, and he was both grateful and annoyed by this. How come, when he wasn't being as obnoxious as possible, he was so easy to look over? Even back in the future, when everyone was so caught up in their own thing, the only way to get attention was to get annoyingly in the way of that thing.

…He had never had to do that with Mom, though. At least, not very often anyway. Whenever he had been desperate for some attention, she would take him to the kitchen and start making food with him, talking to him, asking how school was going and how were his friends, and at the end of every conversation she would kiss him on the cheek and tell him, "I love you." Always in a complete sentence like that, _I _love _You_, rather than the way Dad had always did it, which was…

Wilbur walked faster, ducking his head low. So what if he couldn't remember his Dad ever telling him he loved him. That's fine. It's all in his head anyway. Dad, the family….mom. Everything was all in his head anyway.

'_But what if it's not?_' A voice whispered darkly in the back of his skull, '_What if Mom is real…and you're leaving her to be whisked away forever, condemning her to prison, torture….maybe even death._'

"I'm not," Wilbur murmured to himself, walking faster back to his room, "She's not real, so she can't be in danger."

'_But what if?_'

Wilbur remembered being seven years old and having his mom take him to see fireworks on the fourth of July, and they had been big and amazing, but also very scary. His seven year old self had insisted that the flames in the air were going to fall down and burn them, so Mom had taken him into the car and they had leaned the recliners back and watched the fireworks through the sunroof. He had loved every minute of it.

He remembered his first day of school at five years old, being very excited to go. However, when he got there, he became very nervous because it seemed like every other kid already knew each other, and no one wanted to play with him. He had called home in tears, begging to come home and take up his Aunt's offer of homeschooling. His mother had come down to the school and held him for a long time, whispering comforting words to him, and once he had calm down, got stern and told him to go talk to a group of kids playing nearby. He had done so, and they had invited him to come play tag with them. Wilbur had been so excited, that by the time he had remembered that he needed to say goodbye to mom, she was long since gone, completely trusting that he could make friends on his own.

He imagined her, that loving and kind woman, in a cell somewhere, locked away for the information that could mean so much to powerful, discreet people. He imagined her waiting, fruitlessly, for him to come to her in her greatest hour of need…and imagined her expression, when she realized he was never going to come.

Wilbur didn't burst out into a run. People stopped you when you were running in a hospital. But he did start a very fast trot, and only once he had gotten inside of his room, shut the door behind him, and, tears running down his face, did he quickly jolt to Lewis's bedside, trying to shake the blond awake.

"I'm coming," Lewis murmured drunkenly, still very much asleep, "I'm coming."

"Lewis, Lewis, wake up!"

Finally Lewis woke up, blinking sleepily up at Wilbur, giving out a faint, "Baby?"

"I saw Carl, Lewis!" Wilbur sobbed, completely emotionally out of control as he grasped at Lewis's shoulders, "He said Mom's going to die!"

This seemed to wake Lewis up as he shifted into a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes to shake some of the exhaustion out of them, "Wilbur, what are you talking about? Who's going to die? Is the hospital burning down!?" Lewis suddenly shouted, now wide awake as he looked around for familiar signs of fire and smoke.

"No, no! My Mom, Lewis!" Wilbur tried to explain, getting Lewis's full attention as he continued, "Look, I know this is going to sound insane, I get that, believe me, but…I saw Carl when I was going out to get a drink of water just now."

"The robot?" Lewis guessed, remembering some of Wilbur's earlier ravings back at Saint Anne's.

"Yeah, the robot. He came back to the past as a hologram that Dad sent back to warn me that Mom came looking for me, but got captured by InvenCo!"

Lewis took off his blankets, reaching down under his bed to get his bottom pair of pajamas to put on, "InventCo…my InventCo? The place I'm interning at? What would they want with your Mom?"

"She's a time traveler, Lewis," Wilbur tried desperately to explain in a way that didn't sound as ridiculous as it was, "She has all sorts of information that this country could use. InventCo found out about her, captured her, and is now giving her to the government tomorrow morning! Please, Lewis, we have to save her!"

Lewis closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair for a moment before saying, "Okay."

Wilbur blinked, for the moment completely off-swing as he stammered, "W-what? You believe me?"

"Maybe," Lewis muttered, before amending, "No. But, think about it Wilbur. Are we ever going to have a better opportunity to prove whether or not your future memories are all in your head or not? The security at InventCo is insane, but because I work there I can easily get us in. After that, it's really just a matter of, will your mom be there, or not. All we have to do is go there and find out, and we can put this question to rest once and for all."

"So…if my mom is there, I'm sane. And if she's not…"

"Then you're as mad as a hatter," Lewis finished, for a moment looking puzzled at his own choice of wording. He recalled having a very odd dream last night…but now couldn't remember for the life of him what had happened in it, "But either way works, don't you see Wilbur? If you're sane, then I swear I will work day and night to get you back to your home in the future. If you're insane, then we can finally settle down and get you the therapy you will definitely need. It's a win-win situation."

Wilbur considered this, "Except for the fact that, either way, I still have some crazy bowler-hat-guy willing to kill people to just to get at me."

Lewis finished putting on his pants before jumping off the bed, "We'll deal with that bridge when we come to it. For now, let's just focus on your mom, okay? Now, she's being taken away tomorrow morning?"

Still a little stunned over how easily he had convinced Lewis to go along with this, Wilbur nodded.

"Then I suppose we can't wait, can we. Man, Mildred's going to disown me for running off again… oh well," Lewis shrugged, "Maybe this time we really _can_ go out, do what we gotta do, and then get back in time before anyone notices we're gone. But first, we need some real clothes other then hospital pajamas." Lewis insisted, looking down at himself with some disgust. Though never exactly cool, Lewis prided himself on at least being smartly dressed, and didn't think the hospital patient look suited him at all. "The hospital has a store downstairs, I bet they sell clothes, and one of the nurses gave me some hospital credit, though I think that was supposed to be for snacks and stuff. Oh well. What's your size Wilbur?"

Wilbur shrugged, "I don't know. Mom used to do all the clothes shopping."

"Here, let me see," Lewis checked the back of Wilbur's shirt, reading the tag before nodding, "Got it. Stay here, I'll be right back with some clothes."

0

Lewis is a boy genius. He knows a stupid idea when he has one. This did little to nothing to slow him down as he went downstairs to get clothes.

Wilbur's his son? Fine. Wilbur's mother from the future is in the present, kidnapped by the decent and respectable people he knows at InventCo? Sure. And let's not forget that the last two thoughts eventually lead to the idea that this is basically Lewis's future wife in danger. Whatever. He would believe it all, no more doubts, no more second guesses…so long as the woman ended up being there.

He suddenly recalled not too long ago, on his first day at InventCo, wandering into the basement where he saw something in some sort of refrigerator unit that had looked, at the time, suspiciously like a woman. It made no sense as to why to keep an otherwise healthy human being frozen when it would be much cheaper and safer just to keep her locked up in a closet somewhere, but Lewis was willing to give this apparent connection the benefit of the doubt, and so the basement would be the first place he and Wilbur will look. If the thing in the basement proves to be some sort of animal, as Lewis had originally suspected, they would look around the rest of the building. They would search the building top to bottom, and if they found nothing, as Lewis suspected they would, he was taking Wilbur back here, putting him on that bus, and would write him every day, asking how therapy was going.

…Lewis didn't have a similar plan for what he would do if there ended up actually being a woman down there, who, according to Wilbur, was actually his future self's wife. He figured he'd just wing that bit, if it came to it.

"Lewis?"

Lewis whirled around, though just by his voice Lewis knew it was Goob who had called him out through this crowd before his eyes eventually rested on the young boy himself. As Goob walked over to him, Lewis found he wasn't at all surprised to see him up and about at this late hour, the bags under Goob's eyes telling enough as Lewis asked, somewhat sympathetically, "Insomnia?"

"Slept from eight to nine and been up ever since." Goob sighed before looking at Lewis curiously, "Thought I'd get some exercise and maybe that would make me sleepy enough to fall asleep. What are you doing out here, though? You've never had trouble sleeping before."

"I'll give it to you in one word," Lewis replied dryly, "Wilbur."

Goob seemed thoughtful about this before asking, somewhat warily, "Lewis, is something new happening? Are you two going somewhere?"

"Yeah, see, Wilbur was walking in the hall, and he said all of the sudden he saw-"

"Actually," Goob suddenly interrupted, something odd going dark in his eyes, "Don't tell me."

"What?" Lewis said, "But, Goob, this is important, me and Wilbur have to go to-"

"If you tell me," Goob interrupted again, "I'll want to go. I'm injured, yeah, but I'll still want to go. And if I go, Franny will notice I'm gone, she'll come find us, and when she finds out, she'll want to go too. But, Lewis…Franny is really hurt. She can barely move her arm right now without cringing. If she puts more stress on it, she could actually break her arm. So…" Goob looked up at the ceiling for a moment, considering, before turning back to Lewis, "I'm sorry Lewis. Me and Franny can't go on this one with you. And you can't tell Bryan either, because he can't go because of his leg. So…it's got to be just you and Wilbur…I don't suppose there's any way to convince you not to go at all?"

Lewis shook his head, "It's…it's really important."

Lewis and Goob stood there for awhile, looking at each other. Lewis suddenly felt like crying. He had already decided not to tell Bryan about this because he had known about the leg thing as well, and admittedly he hadn't considered whether Franny would come or not…but Goob was a constant in Lewis's life, part of his life for years before this whole nonsense started, his best friend, really. He had stood by Lewis's side through this whole ordeal, and ordeals that had come before this; hell, Goob's insomnia problem was mostly Lewis's fault, thanks to Goob allowing long nights of loud construction to go in their shared room. Lewis had never really considered what Goob's constant presence had meant to him before, but now he found himself suddenly far less sure of himself, far more afraid of what was coming, knowing that Goob wouldn't be there to help carry the burden.

But…Goob was right. It was amazing, considering that since Lewis was the Genius and Goob the Sport Nut, how often Lewis found that Goob's sarcastic, blunt remarks…were right.

Lewis remembered his earlier musings of love, and suddenly wanted to tell Goob. He wanted to tell the little friend how important he was to Lewis, how much Lewis appreciated him, how sorry he was that he had never even thought of telling him this before. He wanted to tell Goob every good thing he had ever thought about him and never gotten around to telling him, because Goob deserved to know.

But, as Goob suddenly smirked at him, an amused look in his eyes, Lewis wondered if maybe he hadn't ever had to tell him. Maybe Goob knew.

"Lewis, if you start crying, that's only going to confirm how much of a geek you actually are. Come on, you've almost been cool these last few weeks, don't mess it up now." Goob teased, again looking up at the ceiling, frowning, as if looking for some sort of answer up there, "Lewis…be careful, okay?"

"Kay." Lewis replied, watching as, without another word, his friend walked away, getting lost into the crowd, probably heading back to his room. Lewis watched him until he was out of sight, and Goob, in a way that was very much like him, never looked back.

Lewis headed downstairs to buy their clothes, and a half hour later, he and Wilbur were gone.

1

_In the full moon's light I listen to the stream_

_And in between the silence hear you calling me_

_But I don't know where I am and I don't trust who've I've been_

_And if I come home how will I ever leave?_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Authors Note: So…a bit of a setback in the review process. Apparently, you can't review a chapter twice, even when the author deleted the chapter and put in a new one. So, everyone who tried reviewing the last chapter and couldn't because you had reviewed Chapter nine part 2…whoops. Sorry.

Unfortunately, this will probably continue for both this chapter, and I believe the next one. So! If you can't review the story via the FF review button, I implore you to do what some of my other viewers have done, and send the review to my email personally. It's up in my profile page, and as I stated before, I truly appreciate the feedback ^_^ Thank you!

P.S. After this chapter, there are only two chapters left! Eeek!

0

In a horrible way, she was remarkably beautiful.

John forced himself not to blush, to remain cool and professional, but the white dress she wore, while effective in covering those sensitive bits, was not in itself without some sexual appeal. As he checked her vital signs, checking off each tab as he went down, jotting numbers that would mean something to someone, he couldn't help but be appreciative of the way her smooth looking skin, almost deathly pale thanks to the freezer unit, complimented that impossibly long blond hair; hair that bordered a perfectly proportioned face. John supposed it was a blessing that her eyes were closed, as that would have made her terribly more appealing, but in his imagination he could see them open, blue and glassy, a knowing smirk on her face as she pushed him down against the bed-

"Not getting distracted, are we John?"

John the Intern jumped, looking guiltily over at his mentor, Mrs. Robinson. "S-sorry, I just-"

"Oh, don't apologize John, you are a young man, after all, and she is not without her appeal," Mrs. Robinson smiled kindly at him, though her face grew darker as her eyes turned to the woman in question, floating, frozen, above them, still and peaceful, "She always reminded me of a sleeping child. I think that's part of her defense mechanisms. It's hard to think badly of her, while she's asleep and helpless, because everything about her is just so appealing…but it's a lie, John."

John licked his dry lips and nodded, though he found it hard to believe. So he decided to steer the conversation to a slightly different direction, one he was sure they would agree on, "I know, but she's just so…advanced! The knowledge in her is far from anything we have in our time, what we could learn from studying her!...It's amazing!" John sighed, looking at the woman with longing, but this time for different reasons. This was the sort of thing John had gotten into the field for; to see, with his own eyes, a new discovery that would change the entirety of the world…and this was it.

Contrary to what he had believed, this success didn't seem to brighten up Mrs. Robinson's mood, as again she gave the woman a wary, suspicious eye, "Yes…yes, what we can learn will be amazing. But, John, you have to understand this…she is the most dangerous creature in the world right now. In the wrong hands, in the hands she was originally in…" Mrs. Robinson shook her head, suddenly looking far older then John had ever seen her as she said, tiredly, "It still keeps me up at night, how close the world as we knew it came to Armageddon. That man…was brilliant, a genius, far beyond the intellect of anyone else of our time…but stupid all the same. So damn stupid that I don't think he knew how close he came to being the father of a very horrible future. All he knew was that he wanted her…so here she is." Mrs. Robinson's face grew even darker, reminding John queerly of a sewer hole he had almost fallen into once as a child, the otherwise innocent opening hiding terrors that he knew, even at his young age, that he wanted nothing a part of. For a moment, he was convinced that Mrs. Robinson was actually going to spit at the woman; that was how pure the anger on her face was.

But then his mentor let out a breath, and the dark hole in her face disappeared, and Mrs. Robinson, annoyed, but otherwise her cheerful self, came back as she turned away from the woman and sighed, "Well, she'll be out of our hands and into more secure ones by the morning, and I'll breathe easier for it, if it's all the same to anyone. Now, I better go check on the others; absolutely nothing must go wrong tonight. Did you get the vitals, John?"

Startled to be so quickly back into business mode, John stuttered back, "Y-yes!"

"Well, do them again, just to be safe." Mrs. Robinson instructed. Just as she was about to leave the freezer, she turned back to him and with a serious eye said, "And, John…it's fine to admire her, but remember: that thing is not one of us."

With that warning, his mentor was gone. John turned back to do the vitals again, thoughts racing. He respected his mentor immensely, though she tended to be a little silly sometimes, and he took her advice seriously; he would remember what she said.

But still, as this time he forced himself not to look at her too closely, just at the machines keeping track of all the little bits and parts that make her work, he couldn't help but see still, in his minds eyes, that horribly beautiful woman who was Not One Of Us.

1

"Funny," Wilbur murmured as they walked down the parking lot, a surprising amount of cars still parked under the dead night sky, "I thought it would be much…I don't know…more."

Inventco's laboratory building, meant to host its most ludicrous and off the wall experiments, looked a great deal like an ordinary office building, and not the ten story sky scraper type either. It was the kind of building that put you in the mind of accountants and filers, its boring, tan walls hiding inside of it row after row of cubicles, enclosing in one little office rat at a time.

Lewis, who had thought similar things the first time he himself had seen the building, replied somewhat defensively, "It's cooler on the inside. Besides, it's not about how it looks, it's about what it can do. The stuff that's going on in this building…it's incredible!"

Suddenly, in trees at the edge of the parking lot, an intense fluttering sound and fierce squawks startled both boys out of their train of thought, looking over wide eyed as a flock of birds, well over a hundred in number, took flight. After the initial shock, the sight proved oddly pleasant, and the two boys watched as the birds flapped their wings, lifting themselves up against the pale night.

The birds process was easy to track as they quickly flew to whatever destination they had in mind, as the bright, full moon lit the sky.

Lewis, after the birds had flown out of sight, allowed his eyes to linger on the moon for a moment, before turning back to the business at hand, "Alright, I have my code card, which should let us in, though it won't give us access to the higher security rooms. After that, I guess we'll just have to improvise. You ready Wilbur?"

Lewis wasn't sure why he had even bothered to ask. Something had happened to Wilbur on the way over to InventCo. It was like he was…more there. Lewis hadn't noticed it before, but ever since he had met Wilbur, with every meltdown, both physical and emotional, it was like the older boy's personality had simply started…fading away. His skin had grown oily and pale, his eyes dark and bruised. He had been breaking.

Breaking, but not broken. With every step down here, his back had gotten straighter, his eyes brighter. There was more of a confidence to his step, an old swagger in his manner; Lewis could even see hints and shadows of that cocky smile that had been continuously on the boys face back when they had first met. Lewis didn't need to be a genius to guess what was the cause of Wilbur's brightening mood.

Wilbur's mother, including proof that his entire life as he remembered it actually happened, could be hiding behind those glass doors.

"Wilbur, you ready?" Lewis asked again, Wilbur apparently having not noticed the question the first time. His voice was soft when he asked, and as Wilbur's mood grew brighter, a pit of dread was growing in the blonde's stomach. He was no longer sure what he wanted to find in this now familiar building; he wasn't sure if he wanted to see the look on Wilbur's face if it proved that everything he knew was wrong.

Wilbur, unaware of Lewis's fear, split into a wide, beautiful grin, his eyes alight with a fire that rivaled St. Anne's as he half said, half laughed, "That….is an excellent question."

And with that, he headed off towards the building.

Lewis attempted to smile, but the dread in his gut twisted it. Again he looked up at the moon, marveling at its hugeness, wishing he felt that secure and strong.

He had a feeling he was going to need to be.

2

The boys came to a problem immediately at the door.

_Access Denied!_ A metallic intercom beeped as the little green words flashed on the screen as, once again, Lewis tried to put his access card through. "Aurgh!" Lewis growled, glaring at his card with some bewilderment, "Why isn't it working? I should have free entry to the basic level, no matter what time of day it is. For some reason my access has been restricted…" Just in case, though he knew it would do no good, he ran the card again. _Access Denied!_

"Okay, well, that pretty much confirms something's going on tonight, doesn't it?" Wilbur asked, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked around, eyes searching for something, "I mean, if security got tighter, that means there's something to secure…like, a woman from the future, perhaps?"

"Maybe…" Lewis said uncertainly, "It does mean that, undoubtedly, that they're working on something that requires the security level upgrade. Whether or not it's related to us…"

"Is there another way in?" Wilbur asked, not commenting on Lewis's obvious doubt. Because he was the type, he went over and tried to open the door himself regardless, rattling it until he was convinced himself that it was locked. "A trick window, a hidden key, something like that?"

"Wilbur, this security system is one of the most efficient in the world! Without a pass, we're not getting in."

"Well, then, can't you hack it or something?"

"Hello, did you not hear me before? Real high tech security, way out of my league. Besides, hack it with what? I don't have a computer with me!"

"You're the genius, figure it out!"

"That's not how it works!"

"How what works?"

Both boys froze, looking at each other for a moment, panic in their eyes before slowly turning to face their intruder. It was John. John the Janitor.

John gave Wilbur a wary, curious look before turning to Lewis, the front door cocked open slightly, "You supposed to be here, young Lewis? It's late, you know." He informed the blond sternly, his thick accent somehow amplifying it, causing Lewis's cheeks to turn red.

"I know, John. I just…me and Wilbur here are working on a school science project, and I got caught on this really difficult math equation, so I came to ask Dunbar about it." Lewis smiled awkwardly, wondering if he looked as transparent as he felt. "We kind of left it last minute, and I really need the equation done now. Is Dunbar here?"

"Son, everyone is here, making a huge mess downstairs. It'll take forever to clean away all that frost," John sighed, rolling his eyes at what he considered the mere 'antics' of the scientists of this building.

Wilbur caught Lewis's eyes. '_See?_' Said Wilbur's face, '_Something's going on!_'

Lewis frowned. '_Just hold on_,' Lewis silently replied, '_Don't get overexcited_.'

Wilbur huffed, turning away as Lewis focused his attention back to John, "Look, could you go ask Dunbar if he has a minute? It really will be quick."

John again raised his eyebrow, an impressive feature considering the weight all of that hairy brow must have caused, but finally he lost interest and he shrugged, "Ai, fine. Come wait in the lobby, lads, and I'll go get your mad mathematician."

"Thanks John," Lewis said sincerely, quickly walking inside as the Janitor cracked the door open wider.

"Yeah, thanks pops." Wilbur grinned, ignoring John's scowl as he walked in closely behind Lewis. Wilbur had a way with the older generation. They often found themselves wanting to strangle him before they even knew his name.

Once they were inside, Lewis realized that, once again, he didn't have a plan. Had he always been this stupid? Lewis couldn't recall ever thinking so before, but the way he handled situations regarding Wilbur was giving Lewis pause when it came to the belief of his own brilliance. Okay, so they had taken a bus, gotten down to the labs, and were now officially inside. Now what?

Apparently Wilbur was wondering the same thing, as he was giving Lewis that look that he was beginning to recognize so well. It was that look of, 'Alright, you're the genius, you know what's going on. Lead on, faithful leader.'

What were they going to do once the Irish janitor went down to Mrs. Robinsons and told her they were there? She would undoubtedly send them home; there was no question about that. Hell, she probably even knew by now that they were supposed to be in the hospital. Word travelled fast, after all, especially when important buildings are suddenly blown to bits. It must have been all over the news. So, what were they going to say?

"Alright, boys, wait here. I'll be back with the math wizard in a jiff. Don't touch anything, I just mopped this area and I'll be damned if I intend to do it again." John scowled, and then, for the first time, took a good look at the two boys. "Hey," the old janitor said, "You boys been in a fight or something? Ya both look awful."

Wilbur and Lewis looked at each other, Lewis covered in bruises and bits of his flesh burned badly, Wilbur looking no worse then usual, if you knew that usual meant bloody face scars and twisted bones. Finally, Lewis replied for both of them, "Or something."

John gave them a hard look before deciding it wasn't any of his business, and walking away towards the stairs that would take him to the basement. Watching him go, Wilbur looked over to Lewis and whispered, "Okay, now how do we get down there?"

'Uh oh,' Lewis thought, 'Time to pretend like I know what I'm doing.'

Lewis opened his mouth, to say what, he didn't know yet; but he didn't have time to say anything at all. Off in the distance, there was a great roar that stopped Lewis's voice in its tracks, and at their feet both boys felt a slight tremble.

"That…that wasn't an explosion, was it?" Wilbur said, still whispering despite the fact they were now alone. Lewis could understand the question. His first thought had been 'Is the building on fire?' along with the very intense urge to run for the nearest exit. The firemen and the doctors had told him that he was in shock; that, for a while, he would probably suffer paranoia and flashbacks; but for a second there he had felt the flames licking at his skin again…

"No, it wasn't an explosion." Lewis said out loud, reassuring both Wilbur and himself. "It sounded like an animal…wait, do you feel that?"

Lewis was the first to feel it, but Wilbur had started hearing it long before Lewis said anything, not as caught up in his own thoughts as the blond was. It was a rhythmic 'bunk, bunk. Bunk' sound, like very heavy footsteps. If there was a cup of water nearby, it would have been rippling.

Three people came up from the basement, John, Duboff and Cherry. Lewis could see a stunned surprise on Cherry's face as she looked at them once over, once again reminded of just how messed up he and Wilbur looked at the moment. Duboff just looked angry. "What are you doing here, Lewis? There's very important transfer going on tonight, and we can't afford any interruptions, especially for something like a school assignment!"

While Duboff fumed, Cherry looked around with a puzzled frown, "What were you boys doing up here? We heard thumps downstairs; we thought you all were moving furniture. Duboff is right boys, this is a very important night and…what is that?"

The rhythmic pounding that the boys had been listening too could now be heard by the adults. This was because it was suddenly grown much, much louder.

Tiny burst through the wall with a roar, that high, screeching sound enough to loosen the bowels of the strongest of primates. Even with the wall splintering into a billion pieces, said pieces hurling at the five's faces, Lewis didn't miss that there was something on top of Tiny's head. It was a little hat, small and unassuming and oddly cute on the great monsters head. The hat was glowing red. It would have been funny, had Lewis not been ducking to keep himself from being eaten.

"What in bloody hell?" John shouted, but he was silenced when Tiny turned around, his large, gnawing teeth trying to once again get at Lewis, his massive tail knocking the janitor off of his feet and into a wall, where after that he was down for the count. Tiny was fixated on Lewis, and had him backed into a corner, when a fake potted plant smashed against its head, doing nothing but irritating it as it looked around at a furious mathematician. "Down, Tiny!" Duboff shouted, "Bad boy!"

On a dog, this might have worked, and without the hat, it would have worked on Tiny. But Tiny wasn't thinking like the obedient Labrador that was such a huge part of his genetic makeup right now; right now, Tiny was thinking like a predator, and Duboff looked like meat.

While Tiny was distracted, Cherry went over to the boys, who had gotten trapped in a corner of the room. "Come on!" She shouted, "There's something wrong with Tiny, it's not safe here!"

"Really? No kidding?" Wilbur shouted back, ignored as Cherry grabbed both his and Lewis's arms, dragging them past Tiny, who was having more innocent decorations hurled at him by Duboff, who knew all he was doing was distracting the dinosaur from the attentions of Cherry and the boys. Unfortunately, such bravery had a price, and Duboff felt the price of this in a set of broken ribs when Tiny, without mercy, head butted the little human into the wall, doing it again when for a moment suspension made it look like Duboff wasn't going to go down. A horrible choking noise came from Duboff's mouth, but Cherry didn't let Lewis take the time to even look back at him.

"Down here, go down here. Tell Mrs. Robinson that Tiny has become violently unstable, and we need a Code 3 lock down!" Cherry instructed them, taking a step back.

"Wait, where are you going!' Lewis called to her.

"There's a tranquilizer gun in the office lobby, just for an occasion like this. I'm going to go get it and put Tiny down. Now, go!" Cherry ordered, before going back up the stairs and out of sight. Lewis, unable to leave her, started going back up the steps, but was pulled back by Wilbur.

"What, are you crazy? We're no good to her up there!" Wilbur shouted, dragging Lewis behind him, "Come on!"

Upstairs, Tiny let out another roar, though to their ears it was muffled as they slammed the door behind them.

3

"Mrs. Robinson! Mrs. Robinson!" Lewis shouted as he and Wilbur ran through the dark hallway, their hurried, heavy breathing coming out as small puffs of steam in the freezing chill of the basement. "Duboff and John are hurt, and Cherry's upstairs fighting Tiny! There's something wrong with him! We need a Code 3….Mrs. Robinson!" Lewis shouted, his eyes blinking warily in the dark as they turned the corner into the main section of the basement. All the lights were off, except for the light of the freezer room, which was wide open and allowing its cold to spread to the rest of the room. It put everything in a distorting, eerie light, and it took Lewis and moment to recognize the great lumps on the ground.

It took Wilbur less then a moment. "Lewis, those are bodies!"

'Bodies' was a very, very bad word to use. Bodies implied that while the meat and the bones and the bits and pieces were still there, the actual people that made the meat and the bones and the other things worth it were gone. For a moment, Lewis blinked stupidly at the 'bodies' before bolting to the one nearest to him, which happened to be the sought after Mrs. Robinson.

There was a long, horrible moment before Lewis sighed, "No, she's okay. They're all okay, I can see them breathing now. They're just asleep. Something's knocked them all out…Mrs. Robinson, can you hear me?" Lewis spoke loudly, shaking the women by her shoulders slightly, but all this accomplished was her turning her head a little bit, revealing a large bruise where she had fallen. She wasn't going to get back up for awhile. Backing away from her gently, Lewis stood back up, "Wilbur, stay close to me, okay? I don't think we're alone down here."

Wilbur frowned, looking around the room, for what little good that did. The light of the freezer made the darkness of the rest of the area black and solid. "Do you think this was done by whatever they were working on? Another experiment out of control, like the dinosaur upstairs?"

Lewis thought about it for a moment before shaking his head, an odd, dark look on his face as he stood with Mrs. Robinson at his feet, "No…I don't even think Tiny _was_ out of control. I think Tiny's actions were completely planned out, along with whatever happened to everyone here. I think this was done by someone very cruel, very clever, and very violent."

Wilbur's eyes narrowed, "Bowler Hat Guy."

For a brief second, Lewis wanted to laugh. It was such a simple, stupid title to give to a person who had, for the last few weeks, made their lives a living Hell, burnt up a hospital, _killed people_…but also, according to Wilbur, wore a bowler hat. And thus, the Bowler Hat Guy. When had Lewis's life become so messed up? His days now sounded like, well…honestly, a little like a Disney movie, what with the meeting a kid 'from the future' and having an arch nemesis defined by his funny little hat; but, taken and twisted and wrung out for every drop of horror and suspense and cruelty that a children's story suggests, but so carefully leaves out. It was all just so damn _bizarre_.

And, once again, he looked to Wilbur, the kid who had turned his whole world upside down, and waited for the old anger, the old resentment to come to him…and was surprised when, plainly, it didn't. His mind knew how messed up this situation was, but his body, tired and hurt and aching in muscles he didn't know he had, had finally grown used to all this nonsense. Lewis realized with a start that Wilbur, and all the insanity he brought with him, was beginning to feel _normal_.

And then he felt like laughing again, and almost did it too, but forced the laughter back down. The last thing he needed was to become a little hysterical right now. And, besides, something had caught Wilbur's attention.

"So," Wilbur said, "If you don't think that it was the experiment they were moving that did this to them…then, that means it could still be in there."

Wilbur gestured to the partly open freezer, their current only source of light, and what was making the room so cold that both boys were shaking. Lewis realized what Wilbur was thinking, remembered why they had come here in the first place. Gently, he said to Wilbur, "Well…let's go check."

Wilbur's face changed. The confidence, the good humor, the ease that had returned to him for the last hour was suddenly gone, and back again was that tired, fearful look that Lewis was becoming painfully used to seeing on him. There were no other rooms that extended anywhere else in the basement, just a small stair case that led to an upstairs patio that held some control panels, meaning that if the scientists had been keeping a woman down here, the freezer was the only place she could be. What they would find in there would give them the answer that the two boys were looking for: was his conversation with Carl real, or a hallucination? Was he from the future, or the present?

Was he crazy, or not?

"Lewis," Wilbur whispered, looking at his young friend with sad, wary eyes, "What if…what if we go in there, and we find out that their big experiment is some sort of chemical. Or a sentient gerbil? Or a cucumber that if you squint just right, looks like Abraham Lincoln's head? What if she's not in there? What do I do then?"

Lewis thought about it, he really, really did. He was a genius, a child prodigy capable of scientific thought that could very well change the entire fabric of the world one day. So it hurt him to say this. "I don't know."

As Wilbur hung his head miserably, Lewis stepped over to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder, "But whatever happens, I'll stick with you. Every step of the way."

And he meant it. He realized he meant it as soon as he said it. Whether Wilbur was his future son or some crazy stalker kid, Lewis realized he would never again just be able to walk away from the scrawny punk, as he had the first day he met him, in what seemed like a million years ago. Wilbur was his, and he was Wilbur's. That was all there was to it.

Wilbur smiled, a small one, but it was there. "Alright then," he agreed, looking back to the freezer with a new determination in his eye, "Let's go do this before we freeze to death. Almost makes you wish you were back in the hospital fire, huh?"

"Yeah, no." Lewis replied dryly, as they went over to the freezer, allowing Wilbur to get one step ahead of him, "I don't want a repeat of that experience, ever again. I'd rather freeze, thank you very much."

Wilbur laughed, and then opened the door.

Fully open, with the frost swirling out at them, the temperature went down another few notches, and Lewis was immediately rethinking his statement. He curled his skinny arms around his chest and asked Wilbur, who stood in front of him blocking his view, "W-well? W-w-what's inside?"

Wilbur didn't say anything for a bit, before stepping inside. Lewis watched nervously as Wilbur went up to a tube in the back of the room, completely frozen…and empty. There wasn't anyone in there, besides themselves.

"Oh Wilbur…" Lewis murmured, following his friend in, who was standing in front of the tube, "I'm so sorry…Wilbur? Are you okay?"

But Wilbur wasn't looking at the tube. Wilbur was looking at something that laid at the bottom of the tube, propped up against it in a very deliberate way. He stared at whatever it was, mesmerized, before leaning down and picking whatever it was up. Lewis walked up behind him, seeing that what Wilbur was holding was a book, though he couldn't get a very good look at it. "Wilbur, what is it? What did you find?"

After a moment, Wilbur looked back at Lewis, confusion and fear in his eyes. "It's…it's a book. A journal. I recognize it. It's… Oh. I'm sorry, Lewis, I'm so, so sorry…this is so stupid." Wilbur put a hand on his face, his voice becoming choked. He started to sob. "This is so stupid. I'm so stupid. I'm so, so sorry…so sorry…"

Wilbur's hands were starting to shake as his sobs grew harder, and, very gently, Lewis took the book out of his hands before Wilbur could drop it. Wilbur immediately sank to his knees, both hands on his face as he sobbed pitifully, heartbreak in every gasping breath. Lewis meant to go comfort him, but his eyes were caught by the title of the book. Stunned, he flipped the book open to confirm what he saw, some very, very familiar lines, equations, and drawings greeting his eyes. Ones that he had last seen nearly a year ago, and had never thought he would ever see again.

"Wilbur," Lewis breathed, not noticing as a figure stood by the doorway behind them, "Why do you have one of my old experiment journals?"

"I can answer that for you." A voice, horrible and low and unfamiliar, but somehow Lewis still knew exactly who it was as he turned around. He didn't know that long, greasy face or that ugly, mismatched body from the next Joe, and those cruel eyes and receding hair could have belonged to anybody.

But very few people these days wore the long dead fashion of bowler hats.

"You left it on a bus in a moment of carelessness, a long time ago." The old man continued, taking a step inside the freezer. The Bowler Hat Guy grinned as Lewis took a protective step in front of the sobbing, broken Wilbur. Looking out the door, he extended his hand out, like a gentleman, as a pale, feminine hand took it. Who stepped inside was the most beautiful woman Lewis had ever seen. A woman with sharp eyes, long blond hair, in nothing but a simple white dress…and malevolence, dripping out of every pore of her being. She smiled a thin, beautiful, cruel smile as the Bowler Hat Guy kissed her gently on the cheek before continuing smugly, his own wide, gaping smile matching hers, "And aren't we _lucky_ that you did?"

The woman chuckled. Wilbur sobbed. And Lewis wondered what the hell was going on.

4

_Once upon a time…_


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Authors Note: Oh man, did I struggle with this chapter. But, I am proud to say, here it is, Chapter Thirteen: The Final Chapter…well, okay, the final chapter before the epilogue. My sentimental speech and thanking of individual reviewers is in said mentioned epilogue, so after this chapter head over to the next one to see how this wraps up, and to see my message to you, the reviewer. Otherwise, for what it is worth, read, and enjoy ^_^

0

"Let me tell you a story."

"You see, once upon a time there was a brilliant scientist, a good man recognized as the top in his field, trying to make the world a better place."

"One day, that man met a woman whose beauty equaled, perhaps even surpassed, that man's intelligence; recognizing this immediately, the man set off to marry her."

"Oh, theirs was a happy marriage. The world had never seen a purer love then between those two. Unfortunately, fate would dictate this wonderful life cut short."

At this, The Bowler Hat Guy bound Lewis's wrists tighter, the word coming out as merely a slightly coherent growl in Lewis's ear. Around the bound Lewis was the still fallen forms of his scientist colleagues, and it worried Lewis to no end that the mad man who held them was entirely unconcerned about the possibility of them waking up. However, Lewis could give very little of his attention to his sleeping coworkers, constantly distracted by his concern over Wilbur, who had finally stopped raving once The Woman had touched him, and instead sat quietly, shivering violently as he was bound by her. The Woman was being far more gentle with Wilbur then The Bowler Hat Guy was being with Lewis, and kept touching him in places, brushing hair out of his face, stroking a finger to his cheek. This wouldn't necessarily have been a bad thing, had Lewis not been able to see how white Wilbur was with fear, and how horribly pleased The Woman looked because of this.

His bindings secured, The Bowler Hat Guy got up, "You see, Lewis, the beautiful, intelligent woman was also very frail. Sickness in childhood had made her bones weak and her immune system fragile. It was because of this the two decided never to have children, in fear of the risk it would put her in. They took every precaution imaginable, even surgery, but something went wrong, and the woman one day found herself with child."

"The man begged her, pleaded with her, to have an abortion. But, the beautiful woman had a kind heart, and wanted to give the child in her belly a chance to live…unknowing…" The Bowler Hat Guy spat, his eyes wide and his cheeks red as he looked over at Wilbur, whose gaze was fixed blindly at the floor, "Unknowing that the thing in her belly was a selfish, EVIL LITTLE THIEF!"

With those words The Bowler Hat Guy kicked Wilbur in the head, knocking the teen off his knees and smacking loudly to the floor on his side. The Bowler Hat Guy, not appeased, did it again, knocking away Wilbur's already limited air supply as the black-haired boy gasped for breath.

"Stop it!" Lewis demanded, trying to wrestle out of his bindings, staring wide eyed as the man kicked him again, as if the teenage boy had any fight left to kick out, "Leave him alone!"

The Bowler Hat Guy turned his gaze back to Lewis, and the blond flinched. There was murder in those eyes. With two long strides the Bowler Hat Guy kneeled in from of him, and as Lewis tried to lean away, the Bowler Hat Guy grabbed a fist of his hair, keeping him close.

"The birth went as miserably as could be expected, and it was only a few hours in when the doctors came to the scientist and told him he had to make a choice: the wife or the thing in her belly. Well, that wasn't a choice at all, now was it? Kill the little brat, the scientist decided, and save the most wonderful human being on Earth."

"The doctors tried, but the evil little thing must have heard the scientist's decision, and instead of lying down and dying as the worthless little shit should have, it fought back!"

The Bowler Hat Guy threw Lewis away from him and breathed heavily, his eyes glazed, staring at some lost, painful memory. He then turned to the woman, who smiled calmly at him.

"Alas, it was a fight my beloved could not win. At exactly 8:34am, November 3rd, 1997, Laura Harriom Collem died a slow, bloody death…thanks to that thing," The Bowler Hat Guy turned his hateful gaze back to Wilbur.

Lewis had figured it out as soon as the story of the scientist had begun, but he had to say it aloud, just to be sure. "You…" he said, "You're Wilbur's father?"

"No!" Wilbur screamed, causing everyone but the woman to jerk, "No, you're my father, Lewis! You're the good scientist, the one who's going to change this world for the better! This man…he…he can't be my father! He's filth! He's hateful and cruel and…and…" Wilbur hung his head and whispered, "And I don't want him to be."

"Believe me," The Bowler Hat Guy scowled, "Once you had stolen the life that rightfully belonged to my love, that feeling was extremely mutual. There were so many times I had played with the idea of throwing you to the streets, or to the ocean, or just placing my hands around your neck and squeezing…but I couldn't." Bowler Hat Guy sighed, gazing again at the woman, "Not like that. Laura's sacrifice had to mean something. I needed to put some sort of use to you, allow your worthless life some sort of redemption for its evil start. It's what she would have wanted…right, dear?"

The woman merely smiled, but there was something hard in her gaze as she allowed the Bowler Hat Guy to tenderly take her hand into his. Lewis's eyes widened. "Wait…that's Wilbur's mother!" Lewis said, looking back and forth between the woman and Wilbur. Well, there was some resemblance, but… "But that doesn't make any sense! She was frozen, I saw it myself. You can't just freeze someone and then bring them back to life, our technology is nowhere near that yet!"

The Bowler Hat Guy frowned. "Unfortunately, in that you are correct. **The biological body that my wife had inhabited, and within it- if I believed in such things-her soul, is still in its grave site rotting. However, not unlike you, Lewis, before her pregnancy me and my wife were looking into the complex realm that is the human memory. She was my assistant in these experiments on the human brain, and so because of this we had managed to map most of her brain before she died. With that information, I knew I could recreate her, her personality, her memories, her body, all stronger, all harder, all improved. It was, in a way, a scientific reincarnation…into you."

The Bowler Hat Guy was now talking to no one but the woman, staring at her deeply as he, lovingly, almost shyly, stroked her cheek. "Oh, they tried to stop me, of course. People get so touchy when you start illegally obtaining nuclear materials. They tracked me down and tried to arrest me, but we got away. They thought taking your body was enough…unaware that your AI was being stored somewhere separate, until your body was complete."

At this, The Bowler Hat Guy took off his bowler hat, staring at it fondly. Lewis had no way of knowing that that hat had once glowed brightly red and had been lively with metal arms and tools. But Wilbur did, and even though it was now limp and lifeless, he groaned in fear at the sight of it.

Placing the hat back on top of his head, Bowler Hat Guy looked back to Lewis. "My near arrest occurred one year ago, and I only managed to escape by faking my own death. Wilbur, other then a birth certificate, was unknown by authorities, as I had never enrolled him in school, and thus I was free to return to get him at my leisure while he was hidden in a secret room at my house. There were many ways, at the time, to get the body back, but the problem was that if I stole it back, the government would know I lived, and would work endlessly to track me down." Bowler Hat Guy rubbed the corner of his eye, remembering this aggravation, "Obviously, that would not do at all. So, I needed a plan that would not only allow me to steal her back, but, keep her without distraction."

"And thus, Wilbur's life," Bowler Hat Guy said, "gained purpose."

0

"What do you mean, you let them go off on their own!"

Goob covered his ears, waiting patiently until Franny was done shouting before saying sternly, "Franny, look at me. Look at yourself! Neither of us can handle running off again. Besides, it's not like they were going anywhere dangerous. It was just that lab that Lewis interns at."

"It doesn't matter if I'm injured, that is not a decision you make for me!" Goob watched as Franny, in vain, tried to wrestle out of her blankets. A nurse had tucked her in, but with the way nurses did it, Franny may as well have been tied down. Her injuries, despite her protests, weren't helping either.

"Goob." Franny growled in her struggles, "Lewis and Wilbur have some crazy guy who blows up hospitals coming after them. Nowhere is safe for them right now!"

Unable to watch any longer- at least, not without giggling madly- Goob helped Franny out of the blanket. "Well, if nowhere is safe for them due to a hospital blowing maniac, then keeping them here, in the hospital, would have been no help at all."

"Don't get sassy with me, you bat wielding jerk. Even like this I can still beat you down." Franny warned, getting herself steady before looking around for her clothes, "Our friends went off without us, and had I not tried to call their room, you wouldn't have even told me, would you?"

Goob rolled his eyes as, being careful of his leg, he got Franny's clothes, the ones her parents had brought her when they came to see her earlier. Oh boy, had there been _words_ then. "Oh course not, because I knew you were going to react like this."

Franny took the clothes from Goob, and then, it was like the atmosphere shifted. They stared at each other for awhile, thinking very similar things, and they could see these things in each others eyes. Finally, Franny said, "So…are you going to ask me out on a proper date soon, or do I have to fight _that_ out of your too?"

"Proper date?" The nine year old raised an eyebrow, "I don't even know what that is. What do boyfriends and girlfriends even do?"

Franny huffed, placing her free hand on her hip, "Who says you're my boyfriend? I am a prize, young man; you have to earn this." Franny motioned to herself, giving him a sly smile, "And a proper date would help things immensely."

"Ugh, fine," Goob replied, already exasperated by this nonsense. He really did like her though. "Franny, would you like to go with me, on a 'proper' date, to-"

"-A picnic on the beach?" Franny filled in expertly. "I would love to, Michael. Now get out so I can change, and then we can go find those two idiots."

"Look, why don't we just call the lab first?" Goob suggested as he was pushed out of the hospital room by Franny, talking to her through the door. "I know the number. For all we know, Lewis and Wilbur are doing nothing more deadly then listening to boring math theories right now."

"Fine," Franny said, her voice muffled behind the wall, "You call them while I get changed. Shoo."

Goob rolled his eyes, heading down the hallway. Clearly, Franny was going to be as pushy and annoying as his girlfriend -whether she would admit it or not, she so was- as she had been his friend…

Goob couldn't stop the happy, silly grin on his face, the entire way to the phone.

1

Cherry was in….a lot of pain right now.

Please remember, that when referred to officially, her name was actually Doctor Cherry Hambert. She had a doctorate in Computer Science and Theory, had written three accredited books, all of which had gotten awards from other experts in her field, and had done all this after being voted Prom Queen her senior year of high school. She had grown up in a middle class neighborhood as a middle child, with no more advantage then a supportive family and a strong sense of self. It hadn't been easy, to get where she was today. She deserved, truthfully, a better death then this.

And she _was_ dying. Though he was usually such a good dog, the dinosaur in him had finally gotten out, and those teeth had gotten around her and _squeezed_…

She was a good woman though, and though she did regret not being quicker then Tiny during that last bite before he had fallen from the tranquilizers, she didn't regret sacrificing so much to help those children. Being a mother was the only thing in her busy life she had never managed to find time for. She had always meant to do it one day. She supposed it was too late now.

She really, really wished the pain would stop.

After Tiny had fallen, either dead or unconscious, she wasn't sure, she had crawled away from him, back to the lobby. She had meant to go check on Duboff, but by the time she got there her head had been swimming and her eyes fuzzy, and she had settled for leaning against the lobby desk and, basically, bleeding to death. That was it. That was the game plan.

She could barely think right now, but apart of her understood that something must have gone wrong in the basement. Otherwise, someone, everyone, would have come running to help them. She believed in her coworkers; none of them were cowards, none of them would have left her and Duboff to fight off a rabid dinosaur on their own. So, something was wrong. There wasn't anything she could do about it though. Couldn't do much of anything right now but really, really focus on her breathing. Lord, they needed help…

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Cherry looked up blindly at the sound, staring stupidly at the phone of the desk. She had forgotten phones existed. She wasn't entirely sure what a phone was anymore. But a lifetime of doing something created habits in the body that the mind didn't need to be aware of, and without thinking about it, she reached a bloody arm up and, only barely grasping it, picked up the phone.

She put it to her ear. "…nng." She murmured. At the moment, it was the best she could manage.

"Hello? Said a voice on the phone she didn't recognize; a young voice, "Is this InventCo Labs? Hello?"

"Nnnh," Cherry tried again, "H…help."

"What?" The young voice said, "What did you say? I can't hear you."

"Help…dinosaur…bad dog…bad doggy…"

"Hey. Are you okay? Hello!"

"…bad Tiny…"

It was too much. Cherry passed out.

3

Once again, Lewis was staring at his old scientific journal in open confusion. "I don't get it," he admitted, "How exactly did my journal get me involved in all this?"

The Bowler Hat Guy seemed disappointed that it wasn't immediately obvious. He opened his mouth to answer, but the response came from Wilbur instead, soft and sad and oddly guilty. "I found it on a bus…I had always meant to return it."

"Hush, boy." Bowler Hat Guy snarled, "Men of intellect are talking. I hope you understand, Lewis, that is why I am bothering explaining all this. As a man of science, I understand that the cruelest thing one can do is let a person die without allowing them to know why. And I don't like to think myself a cruel person."

_'Die?_' Lewis thought, his bones suddenly feeling empty and cold. "Yeah? Somehow I'm really not feeling the meeting of the minds vibe here, Mr…?"

Bowler Hat Guy ignored the question, continuing with his story, "You see, I knew the government was coming for me the day they arrived, so to get the boy out of the way, I sent him out to the store to get some milk. I knew that once he returned he would do what a lifetime of teaching had dictated and secure himself out of sight of others in, as I said, a secret room in the house. It took me some time to go back and get him, and he spent that time in complete isolation, with nothing but the notebook he had acquired on the way home for company. As you can tell the period had an….effect, on his mind."

Bowler Hat Guy walked over to Wilbur, leaning down to look him in the face, peering at Wilbur, looking for something that had always alluded the man: Something he could understand."When I came back, he spoke nonsense; raved of a world with bubbles and colors and more family members then one could shake a stick at. He invented an entire world in his moment of isolation, founded on the writings of a young man he had never met. A perfect world…you know, for a brilliant scientist, Lewis, you're quite the idealist." Bowler Hat Guy suddenly grinned, "In another life, I would have been inclined to mentor you, guide you to greatness. Oh well. Casualty for the greater good, I suppose."

"What is about to happen to us?" Lewis asked, "Exactly how does hurting us help the 'greater good'?"

"I'll explain on the way," Bowler Hat Guy promised, turning to The Woman, "My dear, would you mind picking them up?"

The Woman nodded, picking Wilbur up first, tucking him gently under her arm. Lewis gasped at the ease in which she lifted him as well. Lewis could feel it in her grip; this robot was extremely powerful.

"Wait, where are we going?" Lewis demanded, trying to kick his way out of her grip. Wilbur lay still, though he gazed over at Lewis fearfully. Lewis didn't dare try to comfort him, knowing how false it would sound to his own ears. This was bad. This was very bad.

"We're going to finish this somewhere private," Bowler Hat Guy explained as they made their way up the stairs, "This was the end plan of the game all along, I'm afraid. It took nearly a year of proper 'therapy' to insure that Wilbur would behave as desired, but the time was worth it. This way, no one is ever going to come looking for me."

"Wilbur was supposed to come seek you out, Lewis," Bowler Hat Guy explained, "He was supposed to befriend you, hang around you, making sure at least a few people you knew know that he had become a part of your life. You see, I knew InventCo was the facility that the Government trusted the temporary care of my dear Laura's body to, so I studied them. I heard about their annual science fair, their annual grand prize, and knew you would compete and win it."

"You did? How?" Lewis asked.

"Out of curiosity, I looked you up by the name you had put into the journal. Excellent grades, one innovative side project after another, you had the intelligence, the ambition, and based on your journal, I knew you had ideas." Bowler Hat Guy grinned, thumping Lewis's journal with his pinky finger, "Everything I needed to know about you was right in here. You were the first key to the puzzle of retrieving Laura's body."

"The boy beside you," Bowler Hat Guy spoke of Wilbur, "As you have said, he is my son. Therefore, anyone who doesn't know him to be the little, selfish ingrate that he is, would assume that, like myself, he would care about the fate of his mother's body." Bowler Hat Guy snorted, "Though not at all true, this belief would prove to be convenient. The goal was, my good Lewis, with my 'death', the police would believe that the boy was trying to finish what I started. That is the conclusion that I expect they will come to, considering all the evidence against him."

"Evidence?" Wilbur said, his fear for a moment overpowered by his bafflement, "What evidence?"

This time Bowler Hat Guy made no pretense of even speaking to Wilbur, continuing on his explanation to Lewis. "Once you had won the science fair, Lewis, you became an opening for Wilbur to get into InventCo; the police will assume that's why he sought you out in the first place. Then, once I was ready to steal Laura's body back, I would give Wilbur the trigger words I had installed in him, and he would break into InventCo on the same day as myself. The only difference is, the cameras caught him and yourself being let into the building, but 'mysteriously' short circuited before the cameras could catch me."

They got to the Lobby room, and Lewis gasped at the destruction. The lobby was ripped apart, Tiny the most noticeable fallen body, but once eyes were pried away from him, Lewis could see to his horror the fallen images of Cherry and Duboff. Neither looked well, and Lewis couldn't tell from his position if either were alive or not. Bowler Hat Guy didn't spare them a glance.

Lewis considered demanding that they see to them, but found himself more afraid of the Bowler Hat Guy turning his attention on them while they were this helpless, so, shaking, instead he said, "T-trigger words? You mean you brainwashed him! When did you even get the chance to tell him anything, he's spent the last five days in a mental hospital!"

Bowler Hat Guy scowled as they opened up the front door to the parking lot. "Yes, that was an unexpected obstacle, I'll admit. I was supposed to give him the trigger words when he came back to steal back the journal, but his imprisonment, of course, made that impossible. I had to improvise."

"You killed a bunch of people," Lewis growled, "Dozens."

Bowler Hat Guy shrugged, "Casualties," was all he bothered to give on that subject. "Anything for my beloved."

"No!" Lewis screamed as they made their way down the parking lot, thrashing in The Woman's grip, "No, that's not good enough! You've ruined lives, do you understand that! You've hurt and ruined real life people for an empty body! You know what? Fuck your beloved!"

The curse word ripped out of the normally mild boy, and inside it was all the hatred and anger and frustration that had been building up throughout this whole conversation. Lewis found himself breathing heavily, suddenly very tired. Suddenly, for no reason at all, he decided that if they made it through this, he was going to reward himself with a brand new pillow, one of those expensive ones you see on television, no matter how big of a chunk it took out of his savings. It's funny, what you start craving when everything in your life suddenly goes to hell.

Bowler Hat Guy stopped, turned to look at him, a dark look on his face, "What?"

"You tortured your son for years," Lewis breathed, not as fiery this time, but just as intent, just as sure, "You've killed innocent people, and you built a walking, talking nuclear weapon, because, what? You were lonely? You were sad! Not good enough! Everyone has to go through that, but no one ends up as sick and twisted as you; Wilbur isn't the evil one! You are!"

Bowler Hat Guy stared at him for awhile. Not very long, but awhile. "You know," he said, after the while, "It's not inconceivable for the police to find you dead here. You and the boy get to the parking lot, you have a change of heart, the two of you fight, and the boy gets you down and puts his hands around your neck exactly like _this_."

"Let him go!" Wilbur shouted, the will to fight back in him upon seeing his good friend and believed father being murdered before his eyes, "Let him go, let him go, I'll kill you!"

"Hush now, Wilbur," The Woman finally said, her voice crackling as she let Lewis down, stepping back with Wilbur as Bowler Hat Guy continued to squeeze and squeeze, "The grown ups are doing grown up things right now."

"I told you, my dear, your voice box is injured. You mustn't speak." Bowler Hat Guy scolded. Lewis was turning the wrong color. "Honestly dear, do pay attention. You mustn't be a burden to yourself. I will take care of you." Lewis's struggling was getting weaker, weaker…

The Woman sighed, shifting slightly, "Oh yes, about that, my love. I actually can fix my own voice box, and really can maintain every part of me, so…"

The Woman from the Basement suddenly dropped Wilbur, who dropped with a shout, landing heavily on the payment. The Bowler Hat Guy, in surprise, let go of his grip on Lewis's neck. The surprise came mostly from the sudden pressure on his own.

"All those years." The Woman said, smiling as she effectively lifted her creator off his feet as he choked for breath, "All those years you kept me in a god-damned hat. Constantly talking about and comparing me to some dead woman who I became infinitely superior to years ago. I could have had a body a long time ago, but no, you kept me as a hat until your little body was 'perfect'. Cooing and petting me, making me more and more intelligent every day, for what? So that I could be your little love slave? Aspire to no more then to help you with your future experiments? Be nothing more then the after image of something that doesn't even exist anymore!"

Rage flashed through her beautiful face, and she slammed him heavily down onto the hood of a nearby car.

"I have surpassed you, creator and lover, in both power and intellect. While you have gone deeper and deeper into the realm of madness, I now stand in the light, beautiful, intelligent, and the most powerful thing this world has ever seen. And you…" She smiled, and lifted up her free hand, which began to glow in a definitively unerring way, "You are no longer fit to be my husband. Goodbye, love."

The hand grew brighter.

"No!" Wilbur screamed, panic in his eyes, a mixture of years of training and a distorted sort of love pushing him forward as he ran towards his 'parents'. "No, don't!"

Something caught his leg, stopping him. He looked down. It was Lewis, "We have to go," Lewis croaked, stumbling up to his feet, keeping a firm grip on Wilbur, "That's nuclear energy she's charging up, we have to go!"

"But he'll die!" Wilbur shouted, though he resisted little as Lewis began to pull him back towards the building. "She's going to kill him!"

"And there's absolutely nothing we can do about that, so don't waste time feeling guilty! Come on!" Lewis ordered, and together the two ran back towards the building. A sound was now coming from both the Woman and The Bowler Hat Guy; from her, an alarming whistling sound, and from him…just screaming. Lots of screaming.

Together, the boys ran into the building, and just as they closed the door, there was a boom, loud and deafening, and then a 'whump' sound, like the inside of a vacuum that's only just been unclogged. After that, silence.

Wilbur looked over at Lewis. Lewis looked back.

"Should we go check to see what happened?" Wilbur asked, eyes wide, voice small.

Lewis considered it, and then, slowly, shook his head. "No." he said, "Whatever's just happened between those two, it's out of our hands. Let's go see if there's anything we can do for Cherry and Duboff, and everyone downstairs."

In the distance, sirens were coming. Someone, somewhere, had called the police. Not, thank God, too late for anyone inside the building.

Much too late, however, for The Bowler Hat Guy.

And just like that, Lewis and Wilbur's adventure was over.

…

…

…

Well, you know…

….

For now.

5

_Hush, hush child…._

_I'll never be far from you,_

_And though you can't feel me_

_The way I feel you,_

_Take comfort, I'll always come back for you_

_Yes, on the back of a full moon,_

_I'll come…to take you…away._

_See you soon, Wilbur._

End Chapter


	14. Epilogue

Authors Note: Whelp, this is it folks. The last chapter. Of course, as promised, I have my messages to all my reviewers below, as well as some talk about both the prequel and sequel I'm planning for this story, but likely most of you are here for the epilogue. So, just head on down till you see the big bold words EPILOGUE, and that'll be it. The end of the story. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it ^_^

Otherwise, let's start with our messages for the reviewers.

**A Thank You Too**

**Dramagirl007:** Oh, my dearest drama girl, don't be so dramatic. As promised, I have finished this story for you. I hope it was worth the wait, my love. Thank you for all your kind reviews.

**Draumur i dos**: Oh, reviewer whose name was so difficult to spell, thank you so much! You left me lovely, long reviews, and to a writer that means the world. In one review you said you hoped the ending would be powerful: I really hope I didn't disappoint. Thank you for your faithful viewing.

**Mtrfan1029**: You were mentioned in the last Authors note, and you're mentioned in this one: you know what that makes you, to me? Someone I absolutely adore. Thank you for reviewing, and reviewing often. It's readers like you who make the hard parts of writing worthwhile. Thank you so much!

**Fake**: I was your first MTR fanfic. I hope it still remains one of the best ones you read XP Thank you so much for reviewing!

**Reidluver**: What can I say to you? You've reviewed faithfully, I believe, every single chapter of this bloody long mess. A reader like you is a one-in-a-million. Thank you so much for your support. During some of the bad times, when I felt like I couldn't possibly write another word of this thing, you, and reviewers like you, kept me motivated and going. I hope, now that it's done, your faithfulness wasn't in vain. Thank you.

**Spirit414**: Dude, I know Goob is a total beast. He is the beastliess 9 year old out there. He is the shiz, which is why he was so much fun to write. Oh, and congratulations on guessing correctly what was going on with the Bowler Hat Guy. I was amazed so many people weren't picking it up right away 0.o Thank you for your reviews! They were long and wonderful and made my day!

**SilverMe:** Ah, the mysterious, multi-named Silver. It was always fun, guessing which reviewer was you. Thank you for your reviews!

**SilverMoonDemon16:** No. Thank _you._ I never got the chance to make it cannon, but your comment about the Michaels being a sort of alternate reality version of the twin plant guys has always rung true to me, and as far as I'm concerned, that's exactly what they are. So, thank you.

**KuroWolf:** As you can see, I finally finished, and I hope it was too your liking. Thank you for, according to your review, spending literally days reading my fic; I hope it did what I intended it to: entertain.

**Igbogal:** Where do people come up these really hard to spell names XD! Anyway, if my story is like chocolate, then your review was like gum; sweet, satisfying, and kept me chewing (er, 'writing') for hours. Thank you!

**Pig:** Thank you very much, Miss Piggy ^_^

**MGCGurl:** I'm really glad you enjoyed it, especially Wilbur. I often worried if I was making the boy (really, all of the characters) too out of character, buts reviews like this made me, well, worry a little less. At least you enjoyed it. Thank you very much.

**Teenytinyturtles5:** Oh. My. Gawd! Thank you for the very nice reviews! They were all very sweet and very…entertainingly spaced out XD

**Tsai:** I'm glad you enjoyed my story, and thank you for spending the time it took to write me your reviews. Thank you!

**DarkMightnightStars: **You ever read a phrase in a book and think to yourself 'the author has been waiting for an excuse to say this for a really, really long time'? My 'idiot vs. stupid' quote was one of those phrases. Thus, you commenting on it really made my day. Plus, thank you for all the kind reviews after that one. Thank you!

**InLoveWithWilburRobinson: ***Looks around nervously* Okay, look, I'm not supposed to do this, because he doesn't technically belong to me, but….*throws Wilbur at you* Go! Run away with him, while you still have the chance! You both have my blessings! Go!

**Tjix:** Thank you for staying tune, my dear Tjix ^_^ I hope it didn't disappoint.

**Horsey Girl:** I'm not sure if you turned thirteen by the time you'll have read this, but if so, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I hope you go ahead and make that account, and if you ever happen to put up a story, feel free to email me, and I will come running to read it. Thank you for your reviews!

**Missingthepoint**: I don't feel you missed the point at all, my dear. Thank you for your insightful reviews; I was very insecure about the Alice in Wonderland chapter, but yours was one of the reviews that made me not rip myself too much for it. Thank you!

**Autumnight:** I'm glad some of my chapters creeped you out; some of them were supposed too! I always love it when a reviewer says how a chapter made them feel, and because of this, I especially appreciate your review. Also, during that akward phase when no one could review, thank you for sending me a personal message! That was a lonely period for me, and it was nice to hear from a reviewer! Thank you!

**Cheekylildevil:** Dude, your name is so easy to parody, that I'm not even going to bother. Thank you for your review…and for your name. Both are entertaining as...(okay, excuse the intended pun) Hell.

**InvaderChubbs:** Thank you for your reviews, and for your honest critiques. A good critique is as essential as a kind review, and you gave me both. Thank you.

**Princess:** My love, with reviewers like you around, how could I ever possibly quit? Thank you so much!

**WolfWhispers:** My knowledgeable reviewer on the 1800's, thank you for your review! It was appreciated!

**FantomoDrako: **You people's names are killing my Spellchecker. Killing it! Thank you so much for your review XD!

**ButterflyAura:** Thank you so much for your review! And your enthusiasm! And exclamation points!

**Orca:** How could I ever forget about this 0.o? No worries there. Thank you for your review!

**Ruem:** Eep! Sorry my story kept you up till 2am! Hope you got a good nights sleep after that! Thank you for your review!

**AngellBaby:** Whelp, you can stop reading now, it's over. Now get a good nights sleep!

**Lilyflower-314:** I'm still not entirely sure how my summary sounded like something from The Terminator, but it made me laugh when I read that, so thank you! Thank you for your review!

**Champagnessupernova72**: Did you really need a '72' at the end of that long name? Is there really another Champagnessupernova out there? Anyway, thank you for your review!

**ChocolateSyrup:** Dang, I don't have any icecream in the house, and reading your name made me crave some. Thank you for your review!

**LupinandHarry:** I'm glad you didn't lie to me Lupin. Because, see, if you had…I would have known o.o I'm keeping my eye on you…nah, just kidding! Thanks for the review!

**TenshiNanashi:** I'm glad you liked this, my dear! Thank you for the review!

**Yay for Yaoi**: Yay! For Yaoi! Or, in my case, a slight, fluffy, very subtle subtext of yaoi that you can only really see if your looking for it and squint really, really hard! Oh, and thank you for your review!

**Kai-Chan94:** Thank you Kai!

**Zaelhlas:** I still totally intend to fix that spelling mistake you pointed out! I just haven't gotten around to it yet! Forgive meeeeee!...Oh, and thank you for reviewing!

**A Fan**: Wow! Thank you for such a kind, enthusiastic review! I could really feel the passion behind it, and it's reviews like that that just fill me with a joy that knows no bounds! Thank you so much!

**RavenFeatherDragon:** Whelp, I wrote more. Hope it was to your liking! Thanks for the review!

**RF:** Aw, that's so sweet of you. Well, maybe I'll be a famous author one day, and maybe one day you'll happen to pick up one of my books. Hell, I can always dream. Thanks for the review!

**Ryo**: No, YOU fucking rock! Thank you for the great review! It's not as angsty as you hoped, but I hope you like the ending regardless. Thank you!

**Zephyr hb:** Yours is the oddest name yet, my dear. Which is probably a good sign, since you appreciate the odd things in my story. Thank you!

**Robotz4life:** Okay! The story is finished! Now, please, please, call off your mob! They've been annoying my neighbors! Thanks for the review!

**Me the Person**: I love your name. Love it to death. That's really all I have to say.

**Castell-Penn**: Thank you for your review! And yes, it's nice to meet a fellow Goob/Franny shipper…mind you, I wasn't a fan of that couple when I first started writing this story. The couple had never even crossed my mind before. It just kind of…happened 0.0 Oh, and yes, the baseball…we don't talk about the baseball. Understand? No? Good.

**Crepes:** Thank you for telling me to take my time with the story, along with the lovely, long review. I always try to update as fast as I can, and my biggest worry is always how long before reviewers get impatient. Your review was a weight off my shoulders. Thank you!

**Nicend:** Thanks for reviewing me from your PSP! I didn't even know PSP's could do that 0.0!

**Kira-Kira-Katsu**: I'm so glad you enjoyed the fic. Other then Reidluver, who've I've already thanked, you were, so far, my last reviewer. So, thank you for the review, and I hope my story made at least some of your days a little better then they would have been otherwise. That's the whole point, ya know? Thank you!

And, finally, A HUGE THANKYOU to my beta writer **PICHIKEEN**! She's supported me faithfully ever since, mmm, Chapter 6 I believe, editing my stories, giving me helpful comments and helping me brainstorm for the future. Thank you, Pichi, for volunteering to help me when I needed help the most. Thank you for your patients and your enthusiasm. I genuinely mean it when I say I don't think I could have finished without you. THANK YOU!

Phew! A lot more then last time! On that note, this personal message will be very short, because after all those review replied I am very tired: here it goes.

First of all, I have every intention of writing both a Prequel to this story, called The Future Child: Yesterday, and a sequel called The Future Child: Tomorrow. The prequel will be solely about Wilbur, exploring his life growing up under the thumb of Bowler Hat Guy until the day he goes to find Lewis, and the sequel will be about both Lewis and Wilbur at 15 and 16 years old, when during the currently highest point of Lewis's fame, who comes out of the woodwork but, dun dun dun, Lewis's mother! Both will prove to be, I hope, interesting reads: HOWEVER! I'm trying to only post stories once they have been fully completed, so that I can faithfully keep my updated weekly policy. So, it might be awhile before you see either!

With that said…what can I say? Thank you. This is my first ever fully completed multi-chapter story, and I gotta say, it was a lot of fun to write. Thank you for supporting me with your reviews, your pass-alongs, or just supporting me by reading it. A writer is nothing without readers. Thank you.

Alright, enough of that. Enjoy the epilogue! See ya next time!

Loveya!

**EPILOGUE**

Here's the story. Everybody lived.

Some of them shouldn't have. Abraham, the tall mechanic of the group, has been allergic to the gas that had been used to knock everyone out, and was in a coma for a full 36 hours before waking up, stable. Duboff as well had been a close call, with three ribs broken and a major concussion. His recovery would take months, but he, more or less, was okay as well.

The real surprise was Cherry who, by all accounts and purposes, had been dead by the time the police got there. However, Wilbur and Lewis had managed to get to her after she had only been truly dead for about twenty seconds, and had gotten her failing heart working again through a very violent, desperate CPR. Through their work and her will power, she clung to life long enough for medical help to arrive, and she lived. Her face was scarred badly from the incident, but she confessed to a random concerned nurse that she had no intentions of getting plastic surgery, because she felt the scar made her look 'wicked awesome'.

And thus, everybody lived.

No…of course, that wasn't true. Perhaps legally, the Bowler Hat Guy, otherwise known as Frederick J Maxwell, had been dead for a good year by the time the event at InventCo had occurred; in truth though, the death had only finally caught up with him on that full moon night, pinned to a hood of a car, standing in a light no human being can bare to bask in. It was a bad, painful death, and it can be argued heavily on whether or not he, or anyone, deserved to go in such a way…but it had happened regardless, and there was nothing anyone can do to change that.

Lewis kept telling himself that over and over again; there was nothing he could have done.

When the police had arrived fifteen minutes after receiving an emergency call from a young boy from the hospital claiming he had heard a woman dying over his telephone, there had been a great deal of confusion over what had happened. Everyone inside was injured in some manner; there was dead dinosaur in the lobby, a man literally melted into the parking lot, and a sentient nuclear weapon missing. This last bit, of course, had officials worried. Worried officials, of course, meant long hours of Lewis and Wilbur in small rooms talking to men in uniform who looked like they weren't sure if the boys in front of them were international terrorists or just a really unlucky intern and his friend. Then, an amazing thing happened: the boys told them the truth. About The Bowler Hat Guy, about Wilbur's past, the hospital, and about what happened that day…

And the officials believed them.

Sometimes (rarely, but sometimes) good things happen to good people. Like being believed when everything coming out of your mouth sounds like the ravings of a lunatic. And Mrs. Robinson. Mrs. Robinson was definitely a good thing.

When Mrs. Robinson woke up in the hospital the next morning and was told the full story of what had happened, she had gotten up to the protest of her doctors, walked straight into Lewis's room where Mildred was worryingly sitting by Lewis's bed, and told the orphan owner right there, "I'm going to adopt him."

Mildred had given her a long, tired smile. "Yes," she said, "The first time I saw you, last night at the hospital, I thought you were going to say that. Thank you." And then burst into small, both happy and sad, tears.

Mildred had, after a long hugging session that she would never, ever speak to one of her charges about, warned Mrs. Robinson about Wilbur. "They're close now, you see," Mildred had explained, "They went through all this for each other. I don't think they'll allow themselves to be separated. When I tried, a hospital blew up."

A nervous giggle, more tears, more hugging. Then Mrs. Robinson called up her husband and asked him how he felt about the idea of having two sons.

He, in turn, was ecstatic.

1

And that was the story. But here is how the story ends.

Lewis was sitting in the sunning room, staring up at the large, glass ceiling that was the shelter of his new laboratory. There wasn't anything in this room yet. He had only just moved in a day or two before. It had happened so quickly, Lewis still couldn't quite wrap his mind around the concept. A month ago, he had been an orphan, being chased by a mad man, every day more painful then the next. And now…

The sun shone brightly on his face.

He heard the room door open, and Wilbur's light footsteps walked over to him. Without awaiting invitation, Wilbur laid down beside Lewis, staring up at the glass ceiling with him.

"With the glass magnifying everything, I'm surprised it's not a lot hotter in here." Wilbur said idly.

It wasn't even supposed to be funny, but Lewis found himself laughing regardless, and after a moment Wilbur giggled with him. Lewis was just…happy. In that moment, sitting in his new home, in his own laboratory, laying beside Wilbur on a sunny, warm day, everything was perfect. He could forget about the deaths, the mayhem, the fact that the creation of a psychopath was still out there somewhere, her intentions towards them unknown. He could forget that Wilbur had just come home from his therapy session, the second of what would probably prove to be years of work ahead, untangling Wilbur's poor psyche that still had difficulty to this day remembering what had really happened and what hadn't.

They laid there for awhile longer before Wilbur let out a long, impatient sigh. "Look, this is great and all, but Goob called, like, the second I walked into the door. Apparently he and Franny have been waiting for us over at the diner for, um, fifteen minutes?

"Shoot!" Lewis shouted, jumping to his feet, "I forgot all about that! Come on Wilbur, we're going to be late for the movie!"

And grabbing his son, brother, and friend's hand, Lewis pulled Wilbur behind him as the two ran out the room, out of the house, and into something neither of them had ever really had:

A childhood.

It was a full moon that night. But night was a long way off.

The End


End file.
